


Wildfire

by Janina



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheating, Dark!Jon, Dark!Sansa, F/M, I mean maybe not as much as Jon, Mildly Dubious Consent, Obsession, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Smut, Sneaking Around, Stalking, Twincest, Violence, but we'll see, jonsa, lying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2019-06-23 03:16:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 44,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15597030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: Jon and Sansa, fraternal twins, had a bond that went went beyond what was natural. When Jon commits a crime and lands himself in prison at the age of 15,  the family is shaken to the core. Sansa moves away the first chance she gets and starts over with a new life, a new name, and an adoring boyfriend.And then Jon is released and has but one goal in mind: find Sansa.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [israfel00](https://archiveofourown.org/users/israfel00/gifts).



> Dark!Jon is my lot in life. I just need to accept it. LOL
> 
> Special thanks to israfel00 for putting up with my ten thousand edits on just the first two chapters.  
> To tragedyofromance for being inspired by a fic that wasn't even posted yet - I am so humbled and amazed by that!  
> and to a certain someone for allowing me to pick their brain ;)

[](https://imgur.com/tFr4Gu4)

 

Alayne Stone stretched her arms up over her head and yawned while casually lifting her long legs and settling her feet on her boyfriend’s lap. 

The boyfriend, Jaime Lannister, grinned at her, his green eyes sparkling with humor. He put his newspaper down on the gray faux wicker table before him, and gently grabbed hold of a dainty foot and began to massage it. 

She sighed happily, dropping her arms to her lap, and smiled at him. 

“Well?” he prompted. 

Twisting her lips thoughtfully, Alayne gazed out onto the blue surf. The rhythmic sound out if rushing and then receding on the beach below lulled her into a state of laziness. 

The view from the deck was stunning and even after three years of living here, Alayne never grew tired of it. There was another house diagonally across from them, but they seemed to be away for months at a time. So really, this was their private paradise. It was calming, this house in its modern design with windows everywhere in which to clearly see the water. The scent of the ocean was always just there, and the breeze made for a comfortable night’s sleep. 

Currently, Alayne and Jaime were sitting in chairs that could double as furniture one would put in their living room. Off to the side sat a square stone fire pit in front of a bench that was spread out along the railing of one side of the deck. The seat of it was wide enough to sleep on - which Alayne did - and for her and Jaime to have sex on - which they did. The pillows on it could double as cushions to sit on upon the dark wood of the floor. And, tucked onto the other side - the whole thing was really massive - was a jacuzzi. 

“I don’t know,” she said as she looked at Jaime. “Perhaps we could take the boat out?”

“How did I know you were going to say that?” he asked with a chuckle. 

She smiled. “Because you know me so well?”

He flashed her a mischievous grin and tickled under her knee. 

She squealed and moved her legs off his lap. He grabbed for her and she darted up out of her seat and ran through the sliding glass door and into the kitchen. She heard Jaime coming after her and she giggled as she ran for the stairs that led up to their bedroom on the second floor. Their bedroom, bathed in white, that took up more than half of the floor - their bathroom and a guest room complete with a bathroom, taking up the rest. 

She had just made it inside their bedroom when Jaime scooped her up in his arms, causing her to shout with delight, and tossed her on the bed. 

He loomed over her on all fours, her golden lion of a man, his shirt off and showing off his defined abs and muscular arms. His sandy blond hair fell down around his face and his lips curved into a seductive smile. “I’ve got you now, my little minx,” he murmured and kissed her. 

Alayne wrapped her arms around his neck and let out a little sigh of contentment. 

Jaime’s hand had just slipped under her white tank top when her phone started to chirp from the nightstand. 

She froze. 

She knew that ring. 

It was a special kind of ring that she hadn’t heard in quite a long time. 

“Ignore it,” Jaime said, his lips dribbling down her neck. 

But she couldn’t ignore it. Not this call. In fact, she’d been expecting it since her dream the night before. 

She pushed Jaime off and he groaned as he rolled onto his back. He sighed and looked up at her with a pout. 

She sent him an apologetic look and glanced at her phone even though she already knew who it was. “Sorry, it’s work.”

“You’re supposed to be on vacation,” Jaime grumbled. 

“I’m just gonna take this down the hall. I won’t be long, I promise!”

He waved a hand dismissively, disappointedly. “I’ll be here.”

The constant change of her ringtone wouldn’t give Jaime any kind of pause that this ring was special. This ringtone though, it belonged to her Uncle Benjen. She hadn’t seen him in twelve years, not since she turned eighteen and left Winterfell for good. And the last time he’d called had been five years ago when Jon had gotten parole. He was lucky he hadn’t gotten life since he’d been tried as an adult. But then--

No. She didn’t want to think about that even though she couldn’t think of anything else with Uncle Benjen on the line. 

She shut the door gently behind her in the guest room and pressed the button to take the call. “Hello, Uncle Benjen.”

Whenever she spoke to her uncle, she reverted back to that scared teenager he’d taken in. The one who had just lost her mother in a house fire and whose twin had just been sent to a psychiatric ward for having been the one to set it. Then he’d been sent to prison. 

“Hello, Sansa,” he said gently, using her real name. “Sorry, I mean, Alayne.”

“Hi,” she said, wanting to ask if her brother was completely free now.

“He’s done,” Uncle Benjen said. “His time has been served.”

Alayne’s eyes welled up in tears. “Have you seen him?”

“I have. Briefly. He came to see me.”

“And?” 

“Well, he didn’t believe me when I told him I didn’t know where you were.”

“What else?” she asked, wiping her tears away. 

“I don’t know. He was...restless...jittery. He gave nothing away, even when I asked. All he wanted to know was where you were.”

“Just me? What about Robb and Arya?”

“Babe?” Jaime called. “Almost done?”

“In a minute!” Alayne called back. 

“The boyfriend?” Uncle Benjen asked. 

“Yes,” Alayne replied. 

Her uncle sighed, no doubt realizing that she wasn’t going to tell him much else and said, “They made it clear they want nothing to do with him. Did you?”

No, she hadn’t. She’d just made Sansa Stark disappear. Started a whole new life and didn’t look back. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The past had a way of creeping in; it followed like a shadow. Sometimes it consumed. 

But here, in Lys with Jaime, she could be Alayne Stone. She could be the girl who was estranged from her family and just wanted love and security. Jaime wanted the same. He had a family that he was better off without, though he did have a good relationship with his younger brother. But otherwise, he had escaped too. The both of them fit together like puzzle pieces in that way. 

Family was hard. And family with trauma? Well, it could either bring you closer together or divide the whole pack. 

“I didn’t,” she said softly. “But it’s not like I made myself available to him. I moved away, Uncle Benjen.”

“San - Alayne - that might not be enough for him. I think you know that.”

She did know that. And she wasn’t ready. How could she be when she was the one that had sent him to prison?


	2. Chapter 2

_Catelyn Stark had been waiting all day for her husband to come home. Ned had stepped but one foot in the door and she was tugging on his arm. “You have to see this,” she said urgently._

_Ned chuckled good-naturedly, his tall frame taking up the doorway. “Can I at least put my briefcase down? Take off my shoes?”_

_“Hurry, hurry,” Catelyn said anxiously. She impatiently pushed some of her long red hair back from her face. The ponytail she had it in was coming undone, but she didn’t attempt to fix it._

_Ned frowned as he studied his wife, his grey eyes lingering on the bags under her eyes. He wasn’t going to tell her she had them - he knew better than that, but it was concerning. He knew it wasn’t easy having just one newborn - he well remembered that from when they had Robb, but two at once? He wondered if he should have taken some time off from work and made a mental note to see about working from home the next few weeks._

_“How are you feeling?” he asked as he dropped his briefcase by the door._

_“I’m tired. How do you think I am?” she snapped and then winced. Her lips were chapped and she licked them. “I’m sorry. It’s been a trying day.”_

_“I’m sorry, Cat,” he said as he toed off his shoes. “I should have stayed home with you. You just gave birth a week ago. It was too soon for me to go back to work.”_

_She waved a hand dismissively. “Just come with me, Ned. I need you to see this!”_

_“Okay, okay, I’m ready.”_

_He allowed Cat to drag him up the stairs to the second floor where the bedrooms were. “Where’s Robb?”_

_“He’s next door at Theon’s playing,” Cat said. She pulled Ned into the nursery where Jon and Sansa were in a crib together, on their backs, their sides touching while they stared up at the moon and stars mobile above the crib._

_Ned frowned. “Are they down for a nap?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Together? They have their own cribs.”_

_“ **Watch** ,” she said, and then scooped Sansa up out of the crib and cradled her against her chest. _

_Jon started to whimper, louder and louder, and Sansa whimpered, too. Then Jon opened his little mouth and started to cry. Loudly._

_Sansa joined him._

_“Cat--” Ned began._

_“Just watch, will you?” She then placed Sansa back in the crib next to Jon and their crying tapered off to whimpers, then little moans and grunts, and then little coos._

_Then, to Ned’s surprise, she went around to the other side of the crib and picked Jon up._

_The cacophony started all over again until they were lying side-by-side._

_“Cat, have you been making them cry like this all day?”_

_Her blue eyes narrowed and her lips twisted into a sneer. He backed up a step, thinking she might actually hit him. Not that he didn’t deserve it. The remark was insensitive._

_“No, I have **not** been making them cry all day,” she fumed. “But I noticed it this afternoon when I put them down for their naps after they ate. I put them in their **own** cribs and Jon started to get fidgety. Then Sansa did. Then he started to wail, and then she started, too.”_

_“Did one of them cry when you were feeding the other?”_

_“No, but listen - when they finally fell asleep, I picked Sansa up and took her downstairs. I thought maybe it was just that when one started crying, it upset the other to hear it and so they started. Jon started wailing within mere minutes of her being gone.”_

_“And Sansa?”_

_“She started to cry, too, but it could have been that she’d woken up somehow.”_

_“The same could be said of Jon.”_

_She shook her head. “No. I’m telling you, Ned, they have that twin connection thing!”_

_“They didn’t do this when we first brought them home,” he pointed out._

_“I’m aware. I don’t have an explanation for that, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is what they’re doing **now**.”_

_“What about when they were awake? Did you try separating them then?”_

_Cat rolled her eyes. “They’re newborns. That window is small, and when it’s open, they’re eating.”_

_Ned rubbed his chin._

_“Ned, I know it’s in your nature to doubt the things that aren’t easily explained, but it’s not like this is a new phenomenon. I mean, people have studied twin behavior for quite a long time now. And I know what you’re thinking - so then why am I being so odd about it? I’ve just never seen anything like it before. That they can’t be apart is amazing to me.”_

_“You know what I think?”_

_“So help me if you tell me that I’m tired and just need some sleep--”_

_He shook his head. “Well, I do think you’re tired, but I think that comes with the gig. However, what I think is that I’m hungry, and you’re probably hungry, too. So, how about we let our babies sleep while I fire up the grill and make us some steaks?”_

_She looked like she wanted to protest, or at least argue some more about the things she’d witnessed. And it wasn’t that Ned didn’t believe her per se, but he did need more proof. He had to see things in order to believe them and so far he hadn’t really seen anything too extraordinary. Sure it was a bit odd that they would each fuss so much when the other was picked up, but they were babies. Babies cried. Babies were sensitive to their environments. And they had been in the womb together…_

_Sleep. Cat needed sleep. And some help. So he’d stay home and see what the fuss - no pun intended - was all about._

__

*********

After taking the boat out and spending some time on the water, Jaime and Sansa returned to the house and while Jaime grilled some steaks veggies, Sansa went on her laptop and looked up the Winterfell Gazette to see if there had been anything written up about her brother. 

It came up immediately.

**Jon Stark Released**

_Jon Stark was released this past week after serving one year is a psychiatric ward, nine years in prison, and five years on parole. He was charged with arson and manslaughter after setting fire to his childhood home that killed his stepfather, Petyr Baelish, and his mother Catelyn Stark when he was just fifteen-years-old._

_Stark pled guilty of the crime after it was clear the evidence was stacked against him. Stark cited physical abuse as the reason, as well as sexual abuse of his siblings by Baelish. He said their mother didn’t believe him or his siblings, and he “did what he had to do to protect them all.”_

_Stark was tried as an adult due to the severity of the crime, but the charge was pled down after his testimony of abuse, which was confirmed by his twin sister in court. Child pornography was found on a flash drive Stark submitted for evidence against his stepfather._

_Stark is now thirty years old._

It was such a short article, and yet it packed such a strong punch. Alayne’s heart raced as her eyes soaked in the words again and again as if reading it something would jump out at her between the lines. Perhaps a message that she didn’t have anything to worry about. That Jon wouldn’t find her. That her life with Jaime would continue as it was and her past would remain firmly in the past. 

She clicked out of the window and then erased the history. As if that would keep him from encroaching upon her new life. As if that would keep the memories away. An image of Petyr rose up in her mind and she shook her head and shut the lid of the laptop. 

Nope, nope. Not going there. 

Instead, she thought of her dream. It was the typical kind of dream where someone was standing at a distance from you, and yet somehow close at the same time and you couldn’t see them because it was as if they were made up of shadows. 

It had been Jon, though. Alayne had known that immediately. Just like she had always known when he wasn’t at home when they were kids, and how she knew when he’d returned. No longer than a few hours. That was all they could stand. 

Her hand found its way over her heart and she felt the searing pain of being separated from him. She hadn’t allowed herself to open to that feeling, to that otherworldly connection to him, in a very long time. 

_I’m coming,_ he’d told her in her dream. _I’m coming for you, Sansa._

“Babe! Dinner!” Jaime called from the deck. 

Alayne wiped hastily at her eyes and choked back the sob she felt forming. It wouldn’t do any good for Jaime to see her upset. She had never told him about Jon and her former life and she didn’t plan to do so now. Not until she absolutely had to anyway...and she certainly hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

How would she explain to Jaime just what Jon was to her? That he wasn’t just her twin, and the other half of her, but her soul and her heart?


	3. Chapter 3

_“Jon, Miss Nan told me you pushed Grenn down on the playground today. She said the fall made him cut his lip. Why did you do that?” Catelyn looked in the rearview mirror at Sansa and Jon in their car seats. Both their arms were outstretched and they were giggling as they tried to reach the other._

_Jon looked up and shrugged as he dropped his hand. Sansa followed suit._

_“He made Sansa cry,” Jon said simply._

_Catelyn frowned, looking back at the road. “How did he make Sansa cry?”_

_“He stomped on my sand castle, Momma,” Sansa told her. “I was making one for Jon. We’re going to live in a real castle one day.” She turned her head toward her brother, her lips red from the popsicle she had at preschool. She beamed at her brother and he beamed back._

_“Jon, it’s not okay for you to push the other kids like that,” Catelyn told him. “Next time tell one of your teachers instead.”_

_“Yes, Mom,” Jon said, but even at four he sounded disgruntled about agreeing to that._

_Catelyn sighed as her mind wandered to the conversation she’d had with Nan last week. They were opening a kindergarten in the fall and she had suggested Sansa join it while they send Jon to public school._

_“I think it would be good for them to be separated, Catelyn,” Nan had told her. “They are always together, and the other kids find it hard to befriend one because the other one is always there.”_

_Catelyn knew. And she’d heard it before. Every goddamn year she heard how Jon and Sansa were inseparable. How they were a team, and if one was picked on, that meant the other had to step in and defend them - and sometimes that involved the kid on the outside getting hurt._

_When friends came over, it was understood they would get a package deal._

_Cat glanced in the rearview mirror again and found them just staring at each other. Sansa’s blue eyes locked on Jon’s grey ones. No words were spoken but Catelyn had the eerie sense that no words had to be._

_Jon and Sansa had their own language, and no one else was privy to it._

_She hated to think it, but she couldn’t help it: it was creepy._

_So, yes, she was considering separating them, but she also knew how well it would go over. Once, when they were three, Catelyn’s sister, Lysa, had asked if Sansa could come over for a sleepover so she could take her to get a Journey Doll and take her out to lunch, too. Catelyn had purposely kept it from them that Sansa would being attending a sleepover. The backpack with a change of clothes for Sansa was given to Lysa in secret and put in the trunk._

_Ned had been angry with her for her subterfuge, and had thought it better to prepare them by informing them that they would be spending the night apart. Catelyn knew better than that though. They’d protest straight away and she just wanted to see if they could do it; if they handle it._

_Lysa had called that night with Sansa hysterical in the background and told her sister she was bringing Sansa home. “When she asked after we had dinner if she was going home to Jon now, I told her she was instead spending the night with me and I tried to make it sound fun. I told her we’d watch a Barbie movie and she could have ice cream...She just fell apart, Cat. She wanted Jon. Not you. Not Ned. **Jon**.”_

_At the same time, Jon, upon discovering that his sister was not coming home, had thrown a temper tantrum unlike anything she’d ever seen. He was screaming, crying, stomping, throwing fists - he wanted Sansa home **now**. Catelyn had no choice but to agree to have Lysa bring Sansa home. _

_The pair had hugged each other as though they had been parted for years rather than mere hours. They’d fallen asleep on Jon’s bed, limbs entwined together, tear stains on their cheeks._

_Their pediatrician thought she might be exaggerating, and she was too embarrassed to take them to a psychologist. Ned kept telling her they’d grow out of it. Or rather, Cat thought, he wanted to pretend they would. Or pretend at least that it wasn’t as bad as it really was._

_But Catelyn knew the truth._

_There was something wrong with her kids. They were not normal. And there was no “growing out of it”._  


Alayne woke with a start. She sat up, turned on the bedside lamp and did a quick sweep of the room with her eyes. 

Jon was not here. 

“You ok?” Jaime mumbled as he rolled onto his back and placed a hand on hers. 

“Yup, I just need to use the bathroom,” she said, and got up. 

Padding into their bathroom, Alayne made quick use of the facilities and tried to calm her racing heart. She sipped some water and went back to bed, shutting out the light before crawling back in. 

Jaime mumbled something and she snuggled into him, needing to feel his warmth and solidity. 

Jon had been in her dream again. She couldn’t see him again, but she could hear him and she could _feel_ him. He was upset. He felt betrayed by her, and he was desperate to find her. 

“Where are you?” he’d begged her. “Why did you run away? Why won’t you let me see you?”

She wanted to tell him, she wanted to show him, but God, how could she go back to all that madness? 

Unable to relax, she got up again, this time she didn’t turn on the light but used what little light from the moon that was poking around the curtains and made her way to the stairs. She turned the light on for the stairs and then shut it off once she got to the bottom. 

She made her way through the living room to the kitchen and then outside to the deck. Sitting down in a chair facing the water, she sat back and shut her eyes. 

When Uncle Benjen had taken them in after the fire, and Jon had been taken into custody, and Robb had returned to school in White Harbor - he’d just wanted “away” from all of it - Sansa had had a hard time adjusting. No big surprise. Her literal soul mate, her _twin flame_ (no pun intended), whatever you wanted to call it, had just committed murder and she grappled with the guilt of having basically told him to do it. 

And her mother was dead trying to save that perverted fuck she called a husband. 

While it was true that she and Catelyn hadn’t been getting along - okay, so she’d basically hated her mother at that point. How could she not? The one person who was supposed to protect her from monsters like Baelish hadn’t believed her when she’d told her that Stepdaddy Petyr had touched her and showed her porn and told her he wanted to _fuck_ her , and then he wanted Jon gone, away from her, and he was going to make it happen because he knew he _knew_ \--

Alayne opened her eyes, her heart racing again.

 _I’m here in Lys,_ she thought. _I’m safe._

It was just that she could _feel_ Jon. He was yanking on that thread that connected them and her barriers were weak. 

She closed her eyes again and gripped the arm of the chair. 

She had been to a psychologist after the fire. She and Arya were made to go to deal with all that had happened. 

But a psychologist could only help so much. She could not articulate to them what she and Jon had. No one understood what it was like to be able to communicate with each other like they were able to. It had made them outcasts in their own family...only Ned had been patient and understanding with them. But Robb? Arya? And their mother? They hated it. 

Jon said they were jealous. More likely, their siblings just saw them as freaks. She and Jon hadn’t needed anyone but each other, not really. Catelyn had all but given up on them when Arya, Bran and Rickon had been born. 

Her eldest was grown and didn’t need her as much, her middle two didn’t need her at all, but her youngest, they needed her. Catelyn liked to be needed. 

On a whim, Sansa had gone to a healer. She supposed some might just call Melisandre a psychic,and she was, but Melisandre called herself a healer. Sansa hadn’t even known why she’d chosen to walk into her shop one day, but she had felt compelled to. Like she had to. She’d meandered about the place, picking up a crystal here and there, studying the statues of angels and Gods, along with the various potions and charms that made up the shop. 

Melisandre had asked her if she was looking for anything in particular and after some deliberation, Sansa had told her she was looking for a way to stop her twin from invading her mind. 

“It hurts,” she’d told Melisandre. “I can’t stop it. Do you know how?”

Perhaps it had been desperation. A way to stop Jon from clamoring for her in her head and visiting her in her dreams. She couldn’t take it. It hurt too much and she was afraid and she didn’t know how to be without him and he was a murderer and she’d told him to take care of it and how could she look at Robb and Arya knowing there was blood on her hands, too -- 

Melisandre had told her how to stop it. How to shut him out. 

Alayne took a deep steadying breath in...and out...and in...and out. She imagined a beam of white light coming from the sky and pouring into the top of her head and down through her body, and then extending out all around her. She then imagined a stream of cobalt blue encompassing the white, thick and hard like a shield made of ice. 

She kept the visualization up until she felt Jon ebb away. . . 

And then he was gone and she felt the loss like her blood seeping out of her.

She broke down, the sound of her sobs lost in the crashing of the ocean on the shore below. 

She loved her Jon. She missed him. But she didn’t want to be a freak anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you @israfel00 for all your help on this chapter!! Could not have done it without you!
> 
> And thank you thank you thank you to @tragedyofromance for the gorgeous banner!

[](https://imgur.com/tbsQ8vo)

 

_“You’re going fishing with Robb?” Sansa asked Jon with a pout as she watched her brother assemble the tackle box._

_Jon glanced at her and frowned. “Yeah, just for a little while. He asked if I wanted to go and I like fishing.”_

_“What about me?” she asked._

_“You hate fishing!”_

_“I do not!”_

_“Yeah, you do,” Robb said as he entered the garage. He frowned at Sansa and ambled over to where Jon was prepping the tackle box on Ned’s former woodworking table. It was now the place to just dump a pile of crap. Including tackle boxes and fishing rods._

_Sansa stomped her foot. “But it’s not fair that I can’t go!”_

_Robb glared at her. “Sansa, you get to be with Jon all the time. It’s my turn. He’s my brother and I want to go fishing with him. You can stay home and play with Arya.”_

_Sansa looked at Jon, tears in her eyes, and Jon took a step toward her. He hated seeing his sister upset. When she hurt, he hurt too._

_Robb slapped a hand down on Jon’s shoulder. “Oh, no you don’t, little brother. You’ll both be fine without each other for a few hours. Go inside, Sansa.”_

_In that moment, Sansa hated Robb. At fourteen, he thought he could tell her and Jon what to do. There was only four years between them, this didn’t make him the boss of her!_

_She whirled around after sending a glare Jon’s way and stomped into the house. She sought out her father to complain to him about how unfair Robb was being, and found him in the den, in his beat up leather recliner that creaked in protest if one didn’t sit still on it, and sometimes didn’t even recline. He was reading a book while Rickon, Bran, and Arya watched a movie on the sofa._

_Rickon, three, was barely paying attention to the television, his head was bent, red curls in all directions, as he rolled a matchbox car up and own his arm. Bran, five, was staring intently at it, worrying his bottom lip and watching it as though it contained the secrets of the universe. Arya, seven, narrowed her grey eyes at Sansa when she walked in the room. “Aren’t you going fishing with Robb and Jon?” she asked._

_“No,” Sansa sniffed. She looked at her father who had looked up from the book in his lap. “Daddy, Robb won’t let me go fishing with him and Jon.”_

_Ned got up, put his book down on his seat, and made his way across the room. He put his hand on Sansa’s back and guided her gently out of the den and into the hall. He shut the door behind him and put his hand on Sansa’s shoulder. “Pumpkin, it’s okay for Robb and Jon to do things together. You don’t always have to be with Jon, you know that, right?”_

_“But- but Jon and I were going to go to the park!”_

_“You can ask Arya if she wants to go with you.”_

_“Arya doesn’t like me,” Sansa grumped._

_“Maybe if you spent more time with her, you could find some common ground. Do you remember what that means?”_

_Sansa nodded. “It means we may have things in common and enjoy doing them together.”_

_Ned patted her on the head with a smile. “What do you think? You want to ask her?”_

_“No. I’m gonna go up to my room and read for a while. Maybe later.”_

_She headed towards her bedroom upstairs, her pink skort swishing against her legs. When she got to her room, she locked her door and sat down against her pillows on her bed and concentrated on Jon and how unhappy she was with him, how sad she felt, and how she missed him._

_Twenty minutes later, her door knob jiggled. She knew it was Jon; she’d felt him coming. “Go away,” she called out._

_“San, come on. Let me in. I came home for you!”_

_“I don’t care.”_

_“Well, I can’t go back fishing now because Robb is mad at me.”_

_“You should have thought of that before you left me,” she snapped._

_She felt his frustration and anger with her. And his hurt. Sansa got up and ran to the door. She opened it and found Jon still standing there, his mop of dark curls all frizzy from the heat. She threw her arms around him and he hugged her back._

_“I’m sorry,” she whispered._

_“It was mean what you did,” he said petulantly._

_“I know. I’m sorry, Jon. Forgive me?”_

_“Will you get me an ice cream?” he asked softly._

_She’d have to dip into her allowance money for that and he knew it. She didn’t mind though; she’d hurt her twin and ruined his fishing trip with Robb._

_“I will get you the biggest ice cream you want,” she said._

_He pulled back, grinning. “Thank you.”_

_“Last one down to the garage is a rotten egg!” she exclaimed as she hurried off down the stairs, Jon at her heels._

**********

Jaime reached across the table to take Sansa’s hand and she smiled fondly at him. “Thank you,” she said, “for taking me out tonight.”

He nodded, but didn’t speak, just stared down at their hands with a soft smile. Jaime had told her that on her last night of vacation he was going to take her out to a fancy dinner since he hadn’t been able to take her on a trip this year. 

“I don’t need trips,” she’d told him. “Plus, Lys in gorgeous and _warm_. Winterfell was a frozen tundra for most of the year.”

“Still, I promised spoiling when we started dating, and I’ve been remiss in my duties,” he’d told her, as he held her loosely in his arms. 

“Jaime, you spoil me every day. You make me food.”

He laughed, throwing his head back and she smiled. She loved his laugh. Jaime might not reach the same places in her heart that Jon did, he might not be the other half of her, but she did love him in her own way. It sounded awful, the sort of thing someone said about a person broken in some way who could only love another “in their own way” which always meant not enough or not in any kind of healthy way, but her heart hadn’t been her own since...birth. It was Jon’s. She couldn’t say Jaime had this tiny corner of it right up over here - all she could say was that she loved him, she cared about him, she liked making him laugh and smile, and she loved their life together. 

Jon was all encompassing. He always had been. And it wasn’t as though she knew it when it was happening. All her life, before Jon had been taken away, it was just them. Just how they were. Connected, bonded, so entrenched that all else faded away. It wasn’t until she severed the bond between them did she get it. The closest she’d ever come to finding something she related to in terms of her relationship to Jon was in Wuthering Heights when Cathy declared to Nelly that she _was_ Heathcliff. 

Jaime was a revelation because before him, she didn’t think any man could fit in her life and in her heart. But he did. He was so good to her, and she liked to think she took care of him in turn. He wasn’t her Linton. He wasn’t a substitute; he wasn’t someone to just get on with to pass the time. 

When she’d moved to Lys, she’d started her life over. Changed her name, went to school for art and then decided to become a curator. She’d worked hard, made friends - some had moved away, and a few stayed behind. 

She moved in with a friend until she got a job that made enough money to support her, a dinky little apartment she’d decorated with fairy lights and bought flowers for to make it a little less gloomy. 

Then, one night, while out with her friend Margaery Tyrell, she’d met Jaime. He owned a restaurant called _Kingsguard_ , an upscale place much like the one they were currently at. He’d sent her and her friend drinks to their table, on the house, and at the end of the night, Alayne had gone up to him and introduced herself. 

And the rest, as they say, is history. 

Now he owned two restaurants. The other named _Queensguard _. Both kept him busy, so she understood why he couldn’t whisk her away to some exotic location, and honestly she was fine with it. The rest of her vacation had been consumed with thoughts of Jon and memories of her past. Better to have done all that at home.__

__“What’s up?” she asked him now. “You look a little sad.”_ _

__He sighed and looked up at her. “I’ve noticed you’ve been distracted lately.”_ _

___Crap._ _ _

__“Have I?”_ _

__He nodded. “I’m hoping you don’t feel neglected in any way. I know it’s been crazy with the restaurant and everything, and if I haven’t been as attentive I hope you know it has nothing to do with you.”_ _

__Oh, her Jaime. Her sweet Jaime. He always felt when she was upset that it was something he had done. His family had done a number on him all right. She squeezed his hand. “I don’t feel neglected. And if I’ve been distracted...well, I don’t really have an answer for that. Just snap your fingers in front of my face and tell me to pay attention.”_ _

__He smiled. “No, I don’t think I’ll do that, but as long as we’re okay?”_ _

__“We’re more than okay.” She squeezed his hand again. “You know I love you, right?”_ _

__His smile widened. “I do.”_ _

__“You know what I want to do?” she asked with a mischievous smile._ _

__“What’s that?”_ _

__“I want to dance. Will you dance with me?”_ _

__He got up and held out his hand to her. “To the ends of the Earth.”_ _

***********

 **Winterfell**

Jon Stark threw a handful of shirts in a giant duffle bag. He reached into his underwear drawer next to the mattress on the floor and grabbed a handful of boxers and tossed them in the bag, too. 

_1432 White Shore Drive. Lys._

“Owned by one Jaime Lannister,” he muttered. 

He stepped back and surveyed the room, presumably to assess what else needed to go in the duffel bag. His mind though was on the fact that Sansa was living with some asshole. _Living_ with him. Sharing the same dinner table. The same bedroom. _The same bed._

He thought of the woman he’d picked up at the bar below him and how he’d fucked her hard against the door of his one-bedroom shithole. It was an angry fuck, and he’d thought of Sansa the whole time, willing himself to push through whatever she’d used to block him out so she would know what he was doing. 

She thought she’d shut him out and he’d just accept it? That he’d just stay away? She was the _other half_ of him. There was no him without her, but apparently there was a her without him? When the _fuck_ had that happened?

And it didn’t hold. Not one bit. Not when he could still sneak past that fucking barrier she put up, not when he could still share her dreams and feel her and sometimes even see images, like snapshots of where she was. 

They would always be connected, there was no getting away from it and oh, she could try, she could fucking try and escape him but he knew she never could. Just like he never could escape her. The difference was he hadn’t ever wanted to. When he’d needed her the most, fifteen and scared out of his mind, on his way to serve a sentence for a crime committed to save them and Arya, she’d shut him out. 

With a growl, Jon picked up the glass of water he’d been drinking on his nightstand and hurled it against the wall. It shattered and he felt only marginally better. 

The thing that burned was that he wanted to hate her. He wanted to hate her _so much_ , but he couldn’t. He didn’t. He loved her still. He would always love her and he knew without a doubt in his mind that she loved him back. They’d loved each other before they knew what it was, what it meant, and that it was too big for them to understand. All they’d known was that they needed each other like air. 

Tears stung his eyes and he squeezed them shut and dug his fingers against them to stem the flow. 

He wondered if she even knew she’d led him to her. The guy he’d hired to find her was having a hard time and before she’d put up that barrier again, he’d heard her in his head - _I’m in Lys. I’m safe.”_

His P.I. didn’t understand how he’d figured it out, but it was a lot easier after that to find her. 

Jon dropped his arm and looked at the wall where the glass had shattered. He imagined her standing there, watching him. “Alayne Stone, Sansa? Really? What the hell kind of a name is that?” He pointed at Imaginary Sansa. “And don’t think for one goddamned second that I’m gonna put up with this shit with you living with some rich asshole.”

He peered into the duffel bag. He didn’t need anything else; he had the essentials. 

“You’re gonna pay for shutting me out, Sansa,” he said after picking up the duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and walking out of the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you thank you thank you @israfel00!!

_“You always defend them, that’s why they like you more,” Cat grumbled to her husband._

_“Like me more? It’s not a competition, Cat,” Ned replied._

_Sansa leaned heavily against the wall in between the bathroom she and her siblings shared, and her parent’s bedroom. She had been heading to the bathroom to get a drink of water when she heard her parents talking in their bedroom about her and Jon. So, of course she stopped to listen._

_“As far as who they favor as a parent, it’s you. But I’m certain that given the choice between you and I or each other, they’d choose each other,” her mom said._

_“It’s a good thing that we have children who love each other, isn’t it?” her Dad asked._

_“Are you not understanding at all what is going on under this roof? How can you possibly be so willfully ignorant as to not see that our children are not normal? Ned, Jon told me today that **Sansa didn’t need me.** That she only **needed him**. And then he whisked her away as though I’d intruded by trying to talk to her.”_

_“Eleven is an odd age where you start to see hints of adolescence--”_

_“Ned!”_

_“I’m just saying that she had a fight with some friends at school and wanted her brother to talk to about it. Kids today are starting all that early. It’s like wanting your friends to talk to about a problem instead of your parents.”_

_“Robb talked to me about stuff at eleven. At twelve, thirteen, and even now.”_

_“He’s a different kid.”_

_“Yes, he’s actually **normal**.”_

_Sansa felt Jon behind her before he actually touched her arm. “What are you doing?” he hissed._

_She pointed to their parents’ bedroom._

_Jon frowned, but tilted her head towards the door._

_“--things like that,” her dad finished._

_**Darn,** Sansa thought. **What had he said?**_

_“Why shouldn’t I?” her mother snapped. “It’s true. My own kids don’t love me. They want nothing to do with me. They love you because you let them get away with being weird and creepy.”_

_Sansa looked at her brother with wide-eyes and felt them fill with tears. Her mother thought they were weird and creepy?_

_“Cat, stop it.” Her father sounded mad now._

_Jon took her hand and tugged on it. She allowed him to lead her away to her bedroom where she climbed in and burrowed under the covers, tears dropping from her eyes._

_Jon pulled some tissues from the box on her nightstand and handed them to her as he climbed in after her. “Don’t cry, Sansy,” he said gently. “Mom didn’t mean it.”_

_“Yes, she did. She thinks we’re weird and creepy. And she thinks we love Dad more.”_

_“At least he doesn’t try to pull us apart all the time,” Jon grumbled. “She just doesn’t get it.”_

_Sansa wasn’t even sure she got it. What exactly was “it”? Was it all just because they were twins? She didn’t know any others; did other twins have “it” too?_

_“We’re special,” Jon said._

_If they were so special, Sansa wondered, then why didn’t Robb want to hang out with them? It was always just Jon he wanted to spend time with, and lately, he’d stopped asking Jon to do stuff with him. As for Arya, well, she didn’t seem to like either of them very much, Rickon was too small and Bran was in his own world a lot of the time...but he was still close to their Mom._

_“Maybe we should spend more time with Mom,” Sansa said. “But, just me with Mom, and then just you with Mom.”_

_“Mom doesn’t like me much,” Jon said. He didn’t sound terribly concerned about it._

_Sansa just stared at him, her mind reeling. “How do you know that?”_

_He shrugged. “I just know. It’s ok.”_

_“But how do you **know** that?”_

_“You ever just...feel like something is true even without having proof - like in science when you have all the experiments and data, but sometimes you just know something without it?”_

_“Like how we can ‘talk’ without speaking?”_

_He smiled. “Yeah, like that.”_

_“Jon, Mom loves us. She does. She just doesn’t think we love her. We need to show her.”_

_He shrugged. “Maybe.”_

_“Jon. For me?”_

_He sighed. “Fine. For you.”_

_“I’m going to ask her if we can do something, just the two of us. You should do the same.”_

_He let out a yawn and nodded. “Can we go to sleep now, Sansy?”_

_“You should go back to your bed before Mom or Dad catches you in here.”_

_“Nah, it’ll be fine,” he murmured sleepily._

_But it wasn’t._

__

***********

Alayne enjoyed not only the attention to detail that went along with being an art curator, but also the creativity. Currently, she was working on the best format for the exhibit labels for the upcoming King’s Landing artifacts display.

It was meditative in a way, getting lost in another world and being able to escape hers. It was busy; there was always something to do, but she liked that. And, after a week off with nothing to do but think about Jon, this was a busyness that was welcome. 

She liked being so exhausted at the end of the day as she acclimated to being back at work that she could just nod off after a glass of wine. No laying in bed and remembering things she wanted to forget. No being consumed with guilt. No feeling as though half of her was missing. 

Jaime texted halfway through the day to tell her might be home a little late, but that he would bring home dinner. She texted back, telling him she would stop at the grocery store near the museum and get the milk they needed. 

And, since Jaime was coming home later, she stayed later, pushing it until the last possible minute. After grabbing her purse, she was off, heading down to the front instead of to the parking garage for her car. 

It was still light out, but heading towards dusk. Her favorite time of day. Feeling lighter than she had in a while, Alayne made her way down the busy street toward the grocery store. People were going home, going out to dinner, catching a show, shopping - it was always busy this time of night. Or at anytime really. Alayne rather liked it. She remembered nothing really exciting happened in Winterfell. The streets were quiet and tree-lined, downtown boasting a grocery store, a church, a few little shops and businesses and that was it. But in Lys, people were always on the go and she liked that. Especially for blending in purposes. 

And then she felt it. The hair on the back of her neck standing on end. A twinge in her gut. No, no, it couldn’t be that he had found a way back in. She’d used the shield twice now so how…?

“Sansy.”

Her head whipped up and around - she saw the back of a guy dressed all in black who had curls, Jon’s curls - no, no, that couldn’t be him. This person was tall and muscular and Jon was small and lanky - 

And he was also thirty years old now and not fifteen! He no doubt _grew_. God, what an idiot she was. 

She tried to push through the crowd to see if it was him. _Had he really said her name ?_ Or was it all in her head? 

“Hey, stop pushing, lady!” some guy shouted at her. 

“Some people,” a woman muttered in disgust. 

“Jon!” she shouted. No answer. He would answer, wouldn’t he? If he was here? Of course he would. But then if he’d just walked by her and said her name but didn’t stop…? 

Why would he do that?

He wouldn’t. He would have approached her. Probably screamed at her. But he definitely wouldn’t have just walked by her. 

It couldn’t have been him then. But she felt him. She _felt_ him. Even now, walking with the flow of the crowd to the grocery store she felt him. Her heart thumped _Jon Jon Jon Jon Jon_. 

The grocery store felt like an oasis. A place to hide and regroup. A place to get away from the crowd that now made her feel claustrophobic. She felt weak, like she needed to sit, and found a bench tucked into the corner where she’d seen old people sit when they came in and needed a minute to rest before shopping, or if they felt ill, or just felt tired from shopping. 

She sat and tried to remember how to breathe. 

She should calm herself enough and focus on reopening the connection, but she was afraid to. What if it was him? Then that meant he was here and what - biding his time? Waiting for the perfect moment?

If so, then what the fuck was that? Saying his nickname for her and passing right by her…

Was he fucking with her?

Would he do that?

The alternative was that she was losing her mind. That stress was causing her to have some kind of breakdown and she was now seeing and hearing things. 

“Are you all right, miss?” a woman asked, wearing a maroon polyester jacket with the grocery store logo on it. 

Alayne nodded. “I’m okay, thanks. Just got a little overwhelmed with the crowd outside.”

“Take your time honey,” the woman said sympathetically and ambled away. 

Alayne pushed to her feet and went to grab the milk. The walk back yawned before her now as though it was miles away instead of a block. Milk, car, home. She recited that over and over as she walked toward the dairy section. 

She braced herself upon leaving the store and kept her eyes peeled for any hint of Jon anywhere. She kept thinking - _it can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be_...

By the time she got home, she felt like a basket case. She’d broken down in the car as soon as she’d gotten to the garage, and had to take some time to pull herself together before driving home. She didn’t even know what he looked like now. He was a grown man and she’d missed all of it. Then she wondered how prison had changed him? Had he been hurt? With all the things one heard about prison, it seemed certain that he probably had been. How was his mental state after such an ordeal?

She should have done something. She was the one that had made Petyr want her to begin with. She had to have done something wrong to make him turn his attentions on her like that. When she’d told Jon this, he’d yelled at her and told her she’d done nothing at all, but she’d never really believed him. Jon had gone on about how he could do something to Arya one day, too, and he had to put a stop to it before he did. Especially since Petyr and their mother wanted to send Jon away to a boarding school. And with Robb already gone from the house, there was no one to protect them. 

Everything had felt like too much and too fast and God, why did their Dad have to die in that car crash along with Bran and Rickon? It had destroyed Catelyn. It had destroyed them all. 

Alayne changed into her pajamas when she got home and scrubbed her face clean. She poured herself a giant glass of wine and downed it, and then poured herself another. She was buzzed by the time Jaime got home with dinner, but she didn’t care and he thought it odd, but didn’t question her too much when she just waved a dismissive hand and said, “Tough day at work.”

Despite all this though, sleep was a long time coming. 

She dreamt of Jon in Lys and when she awoke, she wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t.

**********

_“What the hell is going on in here?!”_

_Sansa jerked awake and found her mother standing over her bed, her blue eyes blazing with fury and her pale cheeks red._

_Jon’s hand entwined with hers under the covers reminded her why her mother was furious: Jon had never gone back to his own bed and now they were caught._

_She looked over at her brother and found him staring at their mother, not quite awake. “Whass going on?” he asked, his words slurred from sleep._

_“Why are you in your sister’s bed? Did you sleep in here?!” Cat sounded nearly hysterical. “Ned!” she shouted. “Get in here!”_

_Jon sat up, gripping Sansa’s hand and she gripped his back. In the face of her mother’s fury, she wanted her Jon. Relief came when her father did. Not so much when Robb showed up, scratching his curly head and peering in the room with sleepy eyes._

_“What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Ned asked anxiously, his shoulder length hair tangled up in the back. Sansa would have giggled at the sight had the situation been different._

_“Your son slept in your daughter’s bed,” Catelyn said accusingly spitting each word with a precision bordering on over-pronunciation. Sansa flinched, not missing ‘your son’ and ‘your daughter’ as though they were not hers, too. As if she had given up all claim to them._

_Ned’s eyes went wide and then he frowned at Jon. “Jon, can you tell me why you’re in your sister’s bed and not your own?”_

_“Sansa had a nightmare,” Jon lied. “I was comforting her.”_

_Sansa wisely kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t about to give away that she and Jon took turns sneaking into each other’s rooms at night. They’d both gotten good at getting back to their own beds before being caught, too._

_Well, they were busted now._

_Cat didn’t believe them, Sansa could tell by the narrowing of her eyes. Jon glared defiantly back at their mother._

_“Go to your room right now,” Cat said. “There will be no sleeping in your sister’s bed from now on, do you understand me?”_

_“You can’t keep us apart!” Jon shouted._

_“Oh, yes, I can. Locks on your doors ought to do the trick. GO!”_

_Jon glared at her as he climbed off Sansa’s bed. “You’re just jealous,” he spat and pushed his way past her and Ned and Robb to his room._

_Their Dad went after him, Robb went back to his room, mumbling to himself, and Catelyn stayed with Sansa and lectured her on why boys, especially brothers did not sleep in their sister’s beds. After that, Sansa didn’t feel so inclined to go out of her way to spend time with her mother._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> israfel00...[](https://imgur.com/TR8HfjE)
> 
> AND please, please, please, check out this [gifset](http://what-would-wonderwoman-do.tumblr.com/post/177039938051/smanderberrypez-jon-was-all-encompassing-he) that smandaberrypez made for this story. It is wonderful.

_“Jon?”_

_“Mmm?”_

_Sansa frowned at her brother’s back, facing away from her as he sat at her desk doing his homework and she sat on her bed. She had her math book open before her and a notebook upon which she was trying to write out the equations. She was distracted though, by the conversation she’d had with her friends at lunch that afternoon.“What do you think of girls?”_

_She watched him lift his head, stare at the wall before him, and then he slowly turned and looked at her. “What?”_

_She sighed. “Do you like anyone? A girl. Do you like girls?”_

_He studied her as though trying to puzzle her together, his brow furrowed. “Why are you asking me if I like girls? Do you like girls?”_

_“Not like that. Do you like boys then?”_

_“As friends, sure, but not like that. Sansy, where is this coming from?”_

_She sat back and picked at a piece of loose thread on her duvet. “Well, it’s just that some of the girls at lunch were talking about boys at lunch and how they, you know, have crushes on some of them in our class.”_

_His gray eyes bore into her. “Do you have a crush on anyone?”_

_She frowned. “No. But it got me thinking.”_

_“About whether I like anyone.”_

_“Yeah. And I mean, some of my friends admitted to having crushes on boys when they were ten and eleven. We’re twelve now and I just wonder if we should.”_

_He shook his head. “I don’t.”_

_“I think Harry Hardyng is kind of cute,” Sansa said, “so I guess that’s something?”_

_Jon’s expression darkened. “Harry Hardyng is as dumb as a box of rocks.”_

_“I didn’t say I liked him and wanted to go out with him or anything, Jon. Is there anyone you find pretty?”_

_“Jeyne Westerling.”_

_It was Sansa’s turn to make a face. “She’s all right I guess.”_

_Jon got up from the chair he was sitting in and came over to sit on her bed, facing her. He looked what Robb often described as “solemn”. It meant serious, Sansa had looked it up. It was just Jon’s face though. Yet there was something else in his look besides serious that had Sansa feeling a little light-headed._

_“Do you know who I think is the most beautiful girl I know?” he asked softly._

_Sansa knew. Of course she did. She pointed to herself, pressing her pointer finger against her chest. She felt her cheeks redden._

_He nodded. “There is no one as beautiful as you at school, Sansa.”_

_Her mouth spread into a wide smile and she told him what she knew to be true in her heart: “No one is as cute - no, handsome - no one is as handsome as you, Jon.”_

_He smiled, beamed really. Jon didn’t smile much, but when he did his smiles were almost always for her._

_“Do you think it’s wrong to think that?” she asked softly._

_“No, San. It’s just us.”_

_Us. That was how they usually explained things: it was just them. What they had. What they were. And what they had didn’t seem to be what anyone else had._

_Jon stood and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you, Sansy.”_

_She looked up at him. “I love you, Jon.”_

_He smiled and leaned down. Sansa’s breath hitched and then he straightened, frowned, and went back to the desk._

_She was pretty certain that Jon had meant to kiss her._

_And she would have let him, too._

Sansa wasn’t sleeping. She tried, but as soon as she fell into REM, Jon was there. _“Do you honestly think you can shut me out?” he demanded of her. “I’m the other half of you, Sansa.”_

********

Alayne would wake up, sweating and distressed, clinging to Jaime in the darkness. Why couldn’t she just be normal? Why did she have to have some otherworldly connection to her twin? Their mother had been right all along: something was wrong with them. Something had always been wrong with them.

Jaime was worried about her. He’d gently pointed out the circles under her eyes, and more than once she’d found herself almost nodding off on her way to work in the morning. And definitely on the way back. 

She knew he was close. There was no sense in pretending he wasn’t. She could feel him. It was why she found herself constantly looking over her shoulder. And she now had her answer as to whether or not he was fucking with her. He most certainly was. 

He was angry with her. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that shutting him out had to have hurt him, and like most things that caused one pain, it turned to anger. She would have felt the same way. And since he was here in Lys, he knew about Jaime. 

She and Jon had never allowed for romantic entanglements outside of what they shared. It just wasn’t done. Neither one had ever had the desire for it. She’d broken that by dating Jaime. The first man she’d actually felt something more for than just a muted interest. 

It was difficult to know he was close and to not see him. Part of her just wanted to _see_ him, to be in his presence. To hear his voice and see how he’d changed. He wasn’t wrong. He was the other half of her and knowing he was close and yet being unable to see him was torture. She wanted to reach for him in her mind, but she was afraid to. If she opened the dam completely after so much time, how much would come through? Would it be too much? 

Lack of sleep though, it was beginning to take its toll. And maybe that was part of his plan. Drive her to the point where she begged him to just show himself to put an end to this cat and mouse game. 

In fact, one afternoon, after almost a week of no rest, she had reached her limit. Sitting in her car in the parking garage, staring at a note that was under her windshield wiper that just said, **Hi** , Alayne had had enough. 

She got out of her car and marched to the back of it. She looked both ways, down the line of cars on either side. “Just fucking show yourself already, Jon. Just do it. Stop fucking with me and do it,” she said angrily. “I’m tired of this. You’ve done it, okay? You’ve made me crack. Now just stop fucking with me and show yourself.”

She waited. 

Silence aside from the sound of the traffic below. 

An elevator dinged and someone stepped out. It was just some random guy, looking at his phone and marching off to his car. He looked up at her standing there with her hands balled at her sides and his placid smile slowly fell. “You okay, ma’am?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Thanks.”

He nodded, but the look he gave her told her he thought something might be wrong with her and picked up his pace. 

Alayne didn’t care. Well, she kind of did, and yet, she was tired and determined and now _she_ was angry. So, she leaned her rump against the back of her car and folded her arms across her chest. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

The guy left, passing by her. 

And still she waited. 

Tears filled her eyes. So, he wasn’t going to show himself. “Fuck you, Jon,” she hissed and marched back to her car. She ripped the note off her windshield and ripped it into shreds, letting the pieces scatter to the cement floor. Sure it was littering, but she was trying to make a point here. 

She peeled out of the spot, so angry she wanted to slam her car into something over and over and over again. Instead, she screamed at the top of her lungs until her throat cracked and went raw. She felt like a lunatic, but she certainly wasn’t going to fall asleep on the way home that night.

**********

“Are you sure you’re up to this, sweetheart?” Jaime asked Alayne as he sat on their bed and watched her put her earrings in.

He was worried about her. She hadn’t been herself the past week, and whenever he asked what was going on she just said she was under stress at work. He’d seen Alayne under stress before at work and it was nothing like this. She wasn’t sleeping well, and oftentimes he caught her just staring off into space. Whatever had been bothering her on vacation had gotten worse. 

He wondered if she wanted to break up with him and just hadn’t found the guts to tell him. The selfish part of him didn’t want to ask her. He didn’t want to think about Alayne breaking up with him. It hurt too much and filled him with a dread he wasn’t used to. 

He wanted to marry Alayne, and had actually been thinking it was time to start looking for rings. Now though, he wondered if he should wait it out a bit. He was a selfish bastard, but if she was planning on breaking up with him, he didn’t want to put pressure on her by asking her to marry him. 

She turned to face him, her smile blinding. Gods, she was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. Tonight, she’d curled her hair into soft ringlets that fell down her back, and wore a strapless fire engine red dress. Her lips matched, as did her shoes. She was a vision and he said a quick prayer to the Gods above that she still loved him and wanted to be with him. 

“I’m ready,” she said. “And I’m sure. I need a night out, Jaime.”

“I can take you out and do something fun though. A charity benefit isn’t all that fun.” He stood and made his way over to her. He placed his hands on her hips and drew her closer. She didn’t stiffen. She didn’t flinch. She was loose and comfortable in his arms. That was a good sign. “Charity benefits are stressful and a pain in the ass.”

“Will there be liquor?”

He laughed. “Yes.”

“That’s all I want.”

“Hoping it will make you sleep?”

She got that faraway look on her face again and Jaime wished he hadn’t brought up her lack of sleep. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. 

“For what?” she asked and looped her arms around his neck. She looked at him as though she was weighing something in her mind. Jaime braced himself for impact. But then she wound herself around him and held him tight. 

“Sweetheart?” he asked softly. 

“I just love you, Jaime.”

She sounded emotional which worried him further. But then she pulled back and kissed him. “Let’s go. The quicker we go do this thing, the quicker we can come back and I can have my wicked way with you.”

That did not sound like a woman about to break up with a man. He grinned, somewhat assuaged. “Let’s go then.”

***********

Alayne probably should have felt guilty for how quickly she’d managed to get buzzed. Jaime had warned her to slow down on the second glass of wine. Dinner hadn’t even been served yet and he knew what a lightweight she was.

Alayne knew too, but after the second glass with that floaty feeling beginning to happen in her body, she didn’t much care. She just wanted more to keep that feeling going. 

When Jaime led her to the table they’d be sitting at, he’d engaged in conversation with the people sitting with them, but Alayne just sat back and wondered how long she had to wait before she could have another glass. 

For good show, she made a point to have a few hors d’oeuvres, shamelessly plucked off the trays of the circulating wait staff. She sat back and watched the crowd move about, people dressed to the nines mingling, the music loud but not obnoxiously so. Later, there would be dancing. She was rather looking forward to being in Jaime’s safe embrace. It was him she clung to in the middle of the night after all. 

Okay, yep, it was time for another glass of wine. She got up and excused herself and went to the bar. Every person she passed by she looked in the face. It was her thing now, to make herself aware of every person in her vicinity. If Jon was part of the crowd, she wanted to know about it. 

But then, why would he be here at a charity benefit? It was a black tie affair and Alayne was pretty sure this was not a crowd Jon would move with. She smiled as she took the glass of wine the bartender offered her. She sipped her wine and thought that wasn’t very fair of her, but was it wrong? She highly doubted he’d made it big in the five years he’d been on parole when released from prison. As far as she knew, he’d stayed on Skagos and worked there before coming to Winterfell to visit Uncle Benjen. 

Uncle Benjen. Well, shit. In all the Jon fucking with her head, she hadn’t thought about Uncle Benjen maybe having cracked and telling him where she was. She made a mental note to call him tomorrow and then took a rather large gulp of wine. 

She giggled, thinking how greedy she was, and just finished off the glass before turning and asking for more. 

Jaime found her sometime after she’d downed the next glass of wine. She giggled and poked his nose. “You’re adorable,” she told him. “Have I ever told you that?”

Jaime frowned. “Alayne, I think you’ve had enough.”

“No, not quite. I can still feel my face. I want to not feel my face.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. For God’s sake, Alayne, we’re a charity benefit for underprivileged kids. This isn’t a party.”

“Oh, come on!” she said and waved her arm about. “Look at all the pretty people!”

“Alayne,” he growled and gripped her arm, bringing it back down by her side. “What is going on with you?”

Her bottom lip quivered. “Nothing.”

“Champagne?”

Alayne plucked a glass off the tray the waiter held out before Jaime could stop her and drank it down. The waiter’s eyes went wide.

“Go,” Jaime growled to him. 

“I think you scared him,” Alayne giggled, watching the waiter run off. 

“I’m taking you home,” Jaime said and pulled on her hand. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t want to go!” Alayne exclaimed. Several people in the vicinity looked their way. Alayne glared at them. “What?”

“Alayne,” Jaime hissed. “You’re making a scene!”

It finally penetrated her inebriated mind that Jaime was mad at her. His face was red and his green eyes were blazing with fury. 

_I’m drunk at a charity benefit,_ she thought miserably. _And I made my very sweet and wonderful boyfriend upset with me_. 

It was all Jon’s fault. 

Jon. Jon. Jon. 

She swallowed a sob. “I need to use the restroom,” she said quickly and rushed past Jaime. 

“Alayne!” He called after her. 

Alayne ignored him and kept going, albeit not very well since the floor felt a bit wobbly. Or was that her? It was her. She was drunk. 

She could not feel her face now. (Mission accomplished). 

She didn’t really know where she was going. They were in the bowels of some fancy hotel and she hadn’t bothered to learn the layout when they’d arrived. She’d been single-minded in her focus to have something to drink. 

So, now, she looked out for a large group of woman or a restroom sign. She found the restroom sign, and inside there were a few women at the sinks, fluffing their hair and chatting. Alayne leaned against the wall and waited for them to leave. When they finally did, she locked the door after them and then checked under every stall to make sure she was alone. 

She was. 

The beauty of being drunk was not being so concerned with things like germs. So, Alayne slid down to the floor and let her head fall back against the tiled wall. She shut her eyes. She felt herself spinning, and opened them. 

The other beauty of being drunk was being able to let down one’s defenses. 

And shields. 

She just let it drop, uncaring anymore of what could happen. Let him come. Let him torment her. 

But...but before he could torment her, she wanted to torture him a bit first. 

She let the tears come, she let the fear and yearning she felt bubble up. She gave into it, holding nothing back, and focused on him, on sending it all his way. 

“Do it,” she croaked. “Do your worst, Jon. You want to make me suffer...you win.”

It felt like years of missing him, worrying about him, and feeling so much guilt over what he’d done for her and for them and Arya came gushing out of her in buckets of tears. Buckets and gallons and rivers and lakes and oceans. It was all there in the salt that poured out of her. 

This was why she’d had to block him. Her pain had been too much to bear, and to feel his had crippled her. She sobbed until she felt she was going to be sick. She dragged herself to a stall and dropped to her knees before it, expelling the contents of her stomach. Distantly, she heard knocking on the door to the bathroom, and shouting too. 

Weak and tired, Alayne saw and felt the room spin and then she passed out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> israfel00 - you know the drill ;)
> 
> Thank you so much everyone!!

_Jon and Sansa sat together under the gigantic maple tree, backs against the bark, enjoying the cool fall day while they read their books. It was their favorite spot, discovered when they were ten and out exploring the woods past their yard. Their mother would complain about how they were just asking to be bitten by ticks, and would make sure she checked them over before they were allowed in the house._

_Somehow, despite the fact that they did their own thing and didn’t quite bother with anyone, their mother always made it sound as if they were the most work. Even more than little Rickon who got into everything, and Arya, who was always getting into a scrape or two or five._

_“Sansy,” Jon said and nudged her arm._

_“Hmmm?”_

_“Our thirteenth birthday is in a few weeks.”_

_“I know, Jon,” she said and flipped the page on her book. “So?”_

_“So, I’ve been thinking about what I want.”_

_Sansa looked up from her book and over at him. “Haven’t you told Mom and Dad what you want?”_

_His grin was mischievous. “I know what I want from **you** , Sansy.”_

_“From me?” she squeaked. “I don’t have any money. I spent the last of it on Sour Patch Kids.”_

_“What I want doesn’t cost money.”_

_Her eyes narrowed. “What do you want then? I’m not doing the dishes for you.”_

_He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I want a kiss, Sansa. From you.”_

_Her eyes went wide. “You want...a kiss? From me?”_

_He nodded, his eyes darkening as they dropped to her lips. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Ever since we talked about girls and boys and crushes.” He lifted his gaze to her eyes. “Sansa, you are my best friend, and my other half. You are the only girl in the whole wide world I ever want to spend all my time with. I think you’re so beautiful and I want more than anything to kiss you. Would you maybe want to kiss me, too?”_

_She did want to. But she was afraid, too. “But you’re my brother,” she whispered as if someone was near enough to hear them. “It’s wrong to kiss your sibling. Mom and Dad said so.”_

_“It is for other siblings to kiss. But it’s not wrong for us to. We’re special.”_

_There was that word again. How did being the kind of special Jon talked about make it any less wrong for them to do that? What did it even **mean**?_

_“You keep saying that,” she said with a frown._

_“Sansa, do you want to kiss me?”_

_She couldn’t lie to him. Not Jon. She nodded._

_“It’s because of our bond that you want to,” he said wisely._

_“Is that why you want to kiss me?”_

_“Yes, but also because you’re beautiful.”_

_“Jon, I don’t think you’re supposed to think I’m beautiful like **that**.”_

_“But I do,” he said with a shrug. “Don’t you think I’m handsome like that?”_

_The special “that”. Like one of the movie stars her friends crushed on. Or whatever it was that made people “like like” each other enough to go out. That’s what Jon meant. And yeah, she did think him handsome like that. She’d thought about that almost kiss for a while now, too._

_She nodded again, feeling her face flame with heat. “We can’t tell Mom and Dad,” she whispered._

_“Of course not,” he whispered back._

_“We can’t tell anyone, Jon.”_

_“You think I don’t know that, Sansa?”_

_She licked her lips. “When Jeyne kissed her boyfriend that meant they were going out. What does it mean for us?”_

_Jon wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her in close to him. “It means that you’re my Sansa and I’m your Jon, just as it’s always been. Nothing changes. We’re still us. We just kiss, but in private.”_

_She looked up at him, resting the back of her head on his arm. “You want to kiss me more than once? How do you know you’ll like kissing me?”_

_He dipped his head closer to hers. “Because it’s you, Sansy.”_

_Lost in the gray of his eyes, her heart raced. “I don’t know how to kiss. Do you? Have you kissed anyone before?”_

_“No. I’ve never wanted to. Just you.”_

_She smiled. “What do I do?”_

_“I guess close your eyes and pucker up like you’re waiting for a kiss.”_

_She closed her eyes, her mind racing - was this really happening? Was she really going to kiss Jon? He said there was nothing wrong with them, but she didn’t know of any other brothers and sisters that kissed…_

_When his lips, soft and yet firm, met hers, she startled. Without meaning to, she ended the kiss when her head jerked back. Her eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, Jon! I’m sorry! You startled me!”_

_He laughed and she relaxed; he wasn’t upset with her. “Can we try again?”_

_She nodded and promptly closed her eyes. This time, when Jon’s lips met hers, she concentrated on the feel of his lips. When he moved his, she followed his lead. It wasn’t an awful kiss, but then she had nothing to compare it to. But it wasn’t so much the physical act of kissing that made her feel all fluttery inside. It was the sense of rightness. It was the sense of completion, as though this was supposed to happen all along._

_She couldn’t imagine feeling this whole kissing anyone else. She felt a bit odd in her body, too. It was like there was this little buzz inside her, thrumming inside her veins, making her feel...charged._

_When the kiss broke, she snuggled into him and he held her tight against him, his lips in her hair. “I love you, Sansa,” he whispered. “I’ll only ever love you forever.”_

_The statement said like a promise was like something out one of those romance movies she enjoyed so much. But she knew Jon meant it. She could feel it within her - the surety of it._

_“I’ll only ever love you, Jon,” she whispered back. “Forever.”_

__

**********

The minute the floodgates opened, Jon felt it all. Since it had been so long, it felt as though Sansa had walked up and punched him in the jaw. It propelled him back, the onslaught of emotions.

It was the anguish that had him sitting on the creaky bed in the crappy hotel room he was staying in. He dug the palms of his hands into his eyes and hunched over, gasping. 

Sansa was hurting. 

_“Do it. Do your worst, Jon. You want to make me suffer...you win.”_

He had wanted to make her suffer as he had suffered; he had wanted her to hurt as he had hurt and now that he could feel that she did, it was too much. The barrage of agony he got from her made him physically shake. He couldn’t even manage to give her anything back. It was all her, just her. It reminded him of another time when her pain and her worry and her fear had threatened to overtake him, especially when coupled with his own. 

_“I’m afraid, Jon,” Sansa sobbed in his arms after everyone had gone to bed. She curled up in his arms on his bed and he held her tight against him, wanting to protect her and shield her. Wanting to maim Petyr and scream at their mother. “He just reached out and grabbed my breast and squeezed. Hard. Like he owned me. He said if I tried to tell on him again he’d tell Mom about us and send you away.”_

_“He’s going to send me away anyway,” Jon said, anger coursing through him. No one hurt Sansa. No one touched her in ways she didn’t want. **No one**. _

_“He’s going to do it to Arya one day, too,” Sansa said hoarsely into his neck. “He won’t stop with me, Jon.”_

_“I know,” he said through clenched teeth. He shut his eyes tight. He felt so helpless. He was fifteen years old and he felt helpless to do anything to stop Petyr._

_“Something has to be done, Jon. He has to be stopped.”_

_“I know,” Jon murmured and held her tighter._

The storm coming from her to him stopped abruptly and Jon lifted his head. “Sansa?”

She was still there, but...subdued. What had happened to her? How did all of that stop so swiftly? It didn’t seem possible. 

“Sansa? Where are you, baby? What happened?” 

Nothing. Just...a whisper of her. She could be sleeping; the feeling felt familiar.

Jon lay back on his bed, shut his eyes, and focused on her, willing himself inside her mind. 

Blackness. Just blackness. 

_It’s time, Sansa,_ he told her in his head and then let go. 

They both needed their rest.

*********

Jaime paused mid-stroke of Alayne’s hair in their bed when she shifted, sighed, and a soft serene smile formed on her lips. Her whole body seemed to let go of whatever tension she still held in her body even in slumber, and she appeared to melt into the bed. Puzzled, but pleased his troubled love was able to finally find her rest, Jaime leaned over and kissed the top of her head before standing and getting himself ready for bed.

********

Alayne woke slowly, by degrees, first rubbing her feet together, then moving onto her back followed by noticing how thirsty she was and how her head hurt…

The events of the night came in bits and pieces and she groaned as she rolled back over and buried her face in her pillow. 

And then, Jon’s voice in her sleep -- _“It’s time, Sansa.”_

“Sweetheart? You awake?”

Jaime. 

She opened her eyes and rolled over to look at him on his side of the bed. He wasn’t there. 

“I’m over here, darling.”

She moved to look at the chair they had tucked in the corner of their room, a little reading nook with a lamp behind a white overstuffed chair. He had a book in his lap, and the lamp shed a soft glow over him. He shut the book as he stood, placed it on the chair and then came over to her. He sat down beside her and Alayne reached for his hand. 

He let her have it, and she gripped it and kissed the back of it. “I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I’m so sorry, Jaime.”

“Can you tell me what’s going on with you? Please? You’ve got me worried, Alayne…”

Oh, God. It was hard now to hear that name from his lips. She’d spent so much time trying to escape her former life and now it had all caught up with her. Hearing Jaime call her “Alayne” made her now feel guilty. She’d lied to him. She’d lied to him for so long about everything. How much longer could she keep that up with Jon in Lys? She’d lied to Jaime; she’d lied to herself. Alayne was who she wanted to be. Sansa was who she _was_. 

She looked up at him, weighing in her mind how much she could tell him and what she _should_ tell him. She had to tell him _something_. Her actions last night deemed it so. It hadn’t been a couple glasses of wine at work; it had been several glasses and she’d locked herself in a public bathroom, thrown up, and passed out. 

She pinched her brows together. “What happened anyway? I mean, you found me obviously.”

“We had to get someone to get the key to the bathroom. You were slumped over on the floor, thankfully not in the toilet.”

She made a face. “Gross.”

“Well, you passed out. It was a possibility.”

“Can I get some water please, honey? My head is killing me.”

“I’ve no doubt it is.” He got up and headed to their adjoining bathroom, talking to her along the way. “I picked you up and got you in the car and brought you home. I got you out of the dress and into some pajamas.”

She lifted the bedcovers. He managed to get a t-shirt on her. 

He came out with a glass of water and a couple pills, ibuprofen she bet. He sat down and handed them to her. 

Never had water tasted so good...and felt so good, too. 

She finished the water and handed him the glass with a smile. “More, please.”

He chuckled and got up again. He pointed at her. “Don’t think for a minute that you’re getting out of telling me what’s going on with you by being cute.”

“I know,” she said. “And I will tell you, I promise. But maybe after this headache goes away?” _And I figure out exactly what to tell you?_ she thought. 

He sighed. “Okay. Are you hungry at all?”

“Strangely, yes.”

“Not very strange actually. You didn’t get to eat dinner last night.”

“Could I ask the cook if he could make me some bacon and eggs and toast with grape jelly?”

He chuckled softly and kissed the top of her head. “I can do that. Let me get your water, and maybe after that you’ll be up to taking a shower. That might help you feel better.”

“Is that your way of saying I stink?”

“Yeah, it is.”

She reached out to swat at him, and he laughed and darted away into the bathroom. 

Sansa lay back against the pillows, smiling. And, after thinking that this lovely little world she’d cultivated for herself was possibly going to come crashing down around her very soon, her smile fell.

**********

Sansa couldn’t even begin to wrap her mind around meeting with Jon. Instead, right now, she had to give Jaime some kind of explanation for her behavior not only last night, but all week. She knew he was worried about her and she couldn’t keep making lame excuses about work when he knew that no matter how crazy things could get, she never acted as she had the past week.

The bare bones, she decided in the shower. The very bare bones. 

Freshly showered and dressed in yoga pants and a long sleeved gray top, Sansa made her way down the stairs, fluffing her still wet hair. The scent of the bacon and eggs and coffee assaulted her nose and she hummed happily as she made her way into the kitchen. 

Jaime stood there scraping scrambled eggs with swiss cheese onto a plate and she came up beside him and wrapped her arms around his waist. 

_Was this something Jon and I could have had?_ she wondered. She tried to picture it, coming down the stairs in some other house in some other town with Jon in the kitchen making her breakfast. Or would she be making him breakfast. 

God. Did he learn how to cook in prison? She knew some prisons allowed for prisoners to learn some life skills - had Jon learned any? How did he get on taking care of himself when he was on parole? Did he get an education while in there? She vaguely remembered her Uncle Benjen saying that he would be able to take classes. What kind of job did he take when he was out?

There was so much she didn’t know about him. And so much of life he’d missed. He was twenty-five when he was released on parole. Young, and yet at the same time so old. He’d missed graduating high school. He’d missed prom and learning how to drive and being able to legally drink for the first time. 

She buried her face in Jaime’s shoulder and tried not to cry. 

“Alayne?”

She heaved a sigh and released Jaime. He put the pan down and turned to face her, hip against the island. “What is it? What’s upset you?”

She bit her lip and heaved a sigh for bravery. “Okay, so you know how I told you my family just wasn’t all that close and we kind of all...scattered?”

“Yes, I remember. It was one of the things we bonded about.”

She nodded. “Yeah, see, so I have this brother...his name is Jon. He um, he went to prison.” She stared at him, not wanting to miss his reaction to that. 

His green eyes went wide, his jaw dropped and then worked as though he was trying to find the words to say. “You never told me that.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I was ashamed of it.” _And it was my fault he was there,_ she thought. 

Jaime nodded slowly and Alayne could tell he was trying to process it. “What did he go in for?”

“Arson.”

Jaime sucked in a breath. “How long was he in for? Did he kill anyone?”

“No, he didn’t,” she lied. She just couldn’t...betray Jon like that by telling someone he didn’t know? Or couldn’t stand for anyone to think him a murderer? It was one thing for her to think, but for someone else? No. “He did one year in an institution, nine years in prison, and five years he was on parole. He just got out.”

“He...how old was he?”

“Fifteen. He...um...younger. My Uncle Benjen called to tell me he just got out and it just...I cut him out a long time ago and it just brought back a lot of stuff…”

“Alayne, I wish you had told me about all this before. I mean, did you not trust me?”

“I trust you implicitly, Jaime. It’s not that at all. It’s just...it was hard for our family to have that to deal with on top of my father’s death and it just drove a wedge between all of us and I wanted to distance myself from it all.” _That’s at least not a lie,_ she thought. 

“I still wish you had told me. That’s a pretty big thing not to tell the guy you live with.”

Great, just what she needed. More guilt. Her temper sparked and she grabbed the plate and a fork from the counter and narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m sorry if I didn’t feel like divulging that, but I’m telling you now so you can quit with the guilt trip.”

She stormed to the sliding glass door to eat outside and immediately felt guilty for snapping at Jaime like that. He didn’t deserve it. He was right; she should have told him. But then, there were a lot of things she should have told him. Like her real name. Like Jon was her twin. Like he killed their stepfather and mother when he set fire to Petyr. 

Maybe not that she and Jon had been lovers. That she’d take to her grave. 

She heard the sliding glass door open and shut behind her. She heard Jaime shuffle over to her. He placed his plate of food on the table and sat down. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. You’re right. I should have told you. I’m sorry I didn’t, but it was just hard for me when I’ve tried so hard to put it behind me.”

“You don’t want to see him?”

She did. She didn’t. 

She shook her head. 

Jaime pushed some eggs around on his plate and then sat back and looked at her. “So, what do you want to do today?”

Relieved that it wasn’t going to be a thing, at least not for now, Sansa stabbed some eggs with her fork. “How about we take the boat out?”

**********

Sansa sat outside after dinner, listening to the waves crash below. The tinkling of silverware drifted outside as Jaime loaded the dishwasher. She’d offered to help him clean up from dinner, but he’d insisted on doing it.

She let her eyes drift shut and she thought of Jon, focused on him, reaching out through their bond and just gently nudging him. He’d been “quiet” all day. 

She saw in her mind’s eye what could either be a hotel or apartments. The doors were green. There was a courtyard and a murky pool. Some dead flowers. And then she heard him: “Ocean Boulevard Hotel.”

Her eyes popped open and her heart raced.

It was time.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Eddard “Ned” Stark** _

__

_Eddard “Ned” Stark, 42, passed away on Friday, January 20th, 2002 due to complications from a car accident that happened not five miles from his home in Winterfell. Born to Rickard and Lyarra Stark, Eddard went by Ned and was a successful real estate attorney in his hometown._

_Ned leaves behind two brothers, Benjen Stark and Brandon Stark. A family man with a loving and devoted wife, Catelyn Stark, Ned is survived by his children: Jon, Sansa, Arya, and Robb Stark._

_Calling hours are on Monday from 5-7 pm at the Weirwood Funeral Home, and the funeral will be held on Tuesday morning, with services starting at 10 am._

__

_**Bran Stark**_

__

_Bran Stark, 11, passed away in an accident on Friday, January 20th, 2002. Born to Eddard and Catelyn Stark, Bran is now survived by his mother and his siblings Jon, Sansa, Arya, and Robb Stark, plus his uncles Brandon and Benjen Stark and aunt, Lysa Tully._

_A bright boy who wanted to be a weatherman when he grew up, Bran loved playing puzzles and watching the weather channel._

_Calling hours are on Monday from 5-7 pm at the Weirwood Funeral Home, and the funeral will be held on Tuesday morning, with services starting at 10 am._

__

_**Rickon Stark**_

__

_Rickon Stark, 7, passed away in an accident on Friday, January 20th, 2002. Born to Eddard and Catelyn Stark, Rickon is now survived by his mother and his siblings Jon, Sansa, Arya, and Robb Stark, plus his uncles Brandon and Benjen Stark and his aunt, Lysa Tully._

_Described as a “wild child” by his mother, Rickon enjoyed playing outside, following his big brother Robb around, and playing video games._

_Calling hours are on Monday from 5-7 pm at the Weirwood Funeral Home, and the funeral will be held on Tuesday morning, with services starting at 10 am._

*********

Sansa decided to take the day off work to see Jon. She preferred not to wait all day to see him since she knew in doing so she’d be useless. She could barely even sleep that night wondering how their reunion would go. She didn’t cling to Jaime as she had in the past week either. She didn’t want to outright say that opening the connection to Jon made her feel more...balanced? But she did feel that way...as disturbing as it was.

Jon was still quiet, which Sansa found odd, and she wondered what it meant. It made her a bit nervous. What was he planning? She supposed he couldn’t really “plan” anything. Maybe just to holler at her for a bit which she fully expected. She wasn’t looking forward to it by any stretch of the imagination, but he deserved to have the floor. 

She imagined all he’d shout at her for, and what she would say back. Over and over it went in her head, the conversation going longer and longer. Finally, around 4 am she fell asleep. She woke when Jaime got up at 7 am and nudged her awake. She wasn’t about to tell him about her day off, so she got up and “got ready”. She had breakfast with him. She kissed him goodbye and wished him a good day at work. 

Then she went upstairs and changed from work clothes to something more casual and comfortable. 

She decided on a white skirt that went down past her knees and swished when she walked. For her top, she chose a black sleeveless top that fit her like a second skin. The collar went up a little at her neck, making it almost look like a turtleneck. She slipped on a pair of white strappy sandals to complete the look. 

She brushed out her hair and kept it long and straight and without any adornment and kept her makeup simple with neutral colors. She spritzed on some perfume, grabbed her purse and headed out. 

Sansa knew Jon would feel her when she arrived at the hotel he was staying at, and if he wasn’t there, then she’d leave him a note. But she knew he’d be there. 

She’d by lying if she said she wasn’t a nervous wreck on the way over. She’d missed two turns her GPS had told her to take because she was so nervous. She was trembling with it. What would he look like? What would she find? What would he say to her? How would this go? All the made up conversations in her head was gone and it was just her and her nerves. 

By the time she finally pulled into the parking lot of the dive he was staying at, she thought she could perhaps throw up in that murky pool in the middle of the grounds.

There were rows of green doors before her and above her. It was exactly as she’d seen it when he’d sent her the picture in her mind. 

Sansa parked her car, cut the engine, took out her keys, dropped them in her purse and just sat there. She shut her eyes, and tried to breathe deeply. It wasn’t happening. 

She climbed out, grabbing her purse and stepped out. She walked until she was facing the hotel and it’s row of green doors again and stopped. 

And waited. 

When a door on the second floor opened, Sansa felt everything slow down. It was him. She knew it before she saw him. 

And then there he was. Her Jon. Her eyes stung with tears. His eyes were intense, boring into her. He put his hands on the railing before him and gripped it tight as he devoured her with his eyes and she devoured him with hers. 

He was taller, though at this angle it was hard to say how much. But she could tell that he was. His black curls were no longer shorn short, but fell to his shoulders and at the moment, the sides were pulled back. Probably in a manbun. He had a beard, that was the biggest shock of all, but it suited him well. His babyface was no more with that beard. 

He was also no longer the lanky kid who was trying desperately to build muscle by using Robb’s weights. He’d built that muscle and she could see the curvature of them in the white Henley and the skin tight black jeans he wore. 

Jon was handsome, indeed. Gorgeous, really. 

He walked toward the stairs slowly, keeping his gaze steadily on her, and then by degrees he walked faster and faster until he was he was running to the stairs and Sansa was hurrying, nearly tripping over her own feet to meet him, her nervousness forgotten. 

They reached for each other simultaneously, arms winding, hands gripping. Sansa’s face was pressed against his cheek and she realized absently he was just a few inches taller. 

Tears poured down her cheeks. Happiness and completeness and a utter _wholeness_ filled her. 

“Sansa,” he gasped, his voice deep and rough. “ _Sansa_.”

Sansa pulled back to look at him. Her hands shook as they reached up to frame his face in them. “Look at you,” she said, her voice shaking. “You have a beard! And your hair still has all those curls. Oh, Jon, you’re so beautiful and grown up.”

His pupils were blown wide as he looked at her and then before she could do or say anything at all, his lips were on hers. He tasted faintly of something sweet. She felt a sob escape her throat and he moaned and then lifted her up, causing her legs to wind around his waist. 

He slowly turned them, stumbled a bit to the stairs, and Sansa broke the kiss. “I can walk.”

“No.”

He tore his gaze from her long enough to walk up the stairs and then he pushed her against a door and kissed her again. His tongue slipped into her mouth and Sansa moaned, pulling his hair out of his confirmed man bun.

She was startled when she heard a woman shout, “Get the fuck off my door you fucking perverts!”

Jon tore his mouth away from Sansa’s and shouted, “Fuck you!”

Sansa was startled again. It wasn’t that she’d never heard Jon swear before when they were kids, but there was a savagery to it, an underlying threat in it that shocked her. 

And he _looked_ savage when he pinned her with those grey eyes that were now black. When he reached his room, he reached behind her and pushed open the door. He stepped inside a cool dark room that smelled musty. He set her down on the floor in front of the door he slammed shut with his foot, and then pushed her against it, filling his hands with her face. His hands, she noticed, shook too.

She felt his fingertips dig into her skin and she wondered if he meant to crush her skull. He leaned in, his breath hot on her face. “You bitch,” he snarled. “You beautiful bitch. How dare you shut me out like that?”

Her eyes went wide. “Jon—”

“Shut up,” he ordered and kissed her again, harder this time. She pushed at him and he grabbed her wrists and slammed them against the door on either side of her head. She winced. His gaze softened. He kissed her again, gentler this time. “You’re not going to deny me, Sansa,” he said, breathing heavy. “Not today and not ever again. You’re not going to shut me out, you’re not going to run away.” His eyes crinkled as he let out a humorless chuckle. “You even wore a skirt. You knew what was going to happen and you _planned_ for it. What would your rich fucking cunt of a boyfriend think about that? You came here wanting to fuck your brother.”

She pushed against his hold and with his eyes blazing, he let her go. She slapped him. Once. Twice. And he took it. 

Then he yanked her to him and dragged her to the bed. He turned her around and shoved her down so that she landed on her front. She tried to scramble away, but he gripped her leg and dragged her back. 

She felt cool air on the back of her thighs and knew he’d lifted her skirt. Then she felt his denim-clad erection grind into her ass as his fingers bit into her hips. She moaned and gripped the sheets. She was wet. She was so wet she could feel her juices practically gushing onto her panties. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t want this,” he told her and tore her panties away from her body. 

“Jon!” she exclaimed. 

And then she felt one long finger at her core. She whimpered. 

“You’re so fucking wet, too,” he moaned his finger glided inside her. “Fuck, Sansy, you want this bad. And you get off on it rough, don’t you? Does that wanker you live with fuck you rough?”

“Leave him out of this!”

He slapped her ass. “No,” he growled. His finger left her and she heard the sound of a zipper. He was unzipping his pants. “You think I’m gonna let that one go, Sansa? You belong to me. You always have and you always fucking will.”

He slammed inside her and even though she knew it was coming, it still took the wind out of her. She was so _full_ of him. She lurched forward, gripping the sheets and digging her toes in the bed as Jon set a brutal pace. 

Sansa bent her head down, and arched her back. Then she felt Jon’s hand in the middle of it and she flattened it. She lifted her head and looked at the nicked wooden bedpost. She felt Jon lean over her back. “Just like I belong to you,” he breathed. “You’ll never be free of me, Sansa.”

He started to fuck her hard and fast. God, it felt so _good_. She bit her lip, trying to hold back more tears and this time she didn’t know from what - from the lack of care of Jon’s part, from how rough he was taking her, or from how it felt to finally feel that wholeness of having him inside her, of being connected to him once again. 

It was as though every part of her was being rejuvenated, as though she was the creature being shocked into life by Victor Frankenstein. It felt as though the very cells in her body had opened up and were _reaching_ for him. She had mistakenly thought through the happiness she had found with Jaime that the parts of her that felt dead after shutting Jon out had slowly reawakened. She was wrong. Right here and right now she was alive. _Fully_ alive. 

She knew it was the same for him. She could feel it. Every beat of his heart, every thrust inside her: he was recharging with her. 

He stopped suddenly, causing her to cry out. She’d been so close! He pulled out and turned her over onto her back. He looked hungry. Like he could eat her alive. He yanked her skirt down and off, dropping it to the floor carelessly. Keeping his gaze trained on her, he kicked his boots off and shoved his jeans and boxers down and off. Then he whipped his shirt off.

Sansa knew she had to be gawping at him. “God, Jon, you’re hot,” she breathed. 

“Gotta love that prison gym,” he said. He pointed at her. “Naked, Sansa. I want you naked now. Take the shirt off.”

She sat up and did as he asked, followed by her bra, and then he was on her, pushing her back onto the bed and kissing her deeply. “I want to crawl inside you,” he whispered against her mouth. “I want to live inside you.”

Her smile was faint. She’d heard these words before. “You’re already inside me.” 

“You better not ever forget that again,” he said and there was an edge of anger in his voice. “Take me inside you, Sansa.”

Reaching down between them, Sansa guided him to her entrance and this time he slid inside slowly, his gaze locked on hers. Bending his head, he lay kisses upon the length of her neck. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. You always were, but now...Jesus, you hurt my eyes.”

“You’re so handsome, Jon,” she told him, putting her hands on either side of his face and making him look at her. “I love you.”

“You love me so much you shut me out,” he said, his nostrils flaring. He was angry again. 

“I had to--”

“Shut up,” he told her. “ Just shut up and let me have this. I’ve needed this with you for the past fifteen years and I’m taking it as many times as I want. I sure hope you don’t have to be at your fucking posh house with your cunt boyfriend anytime soon.”

He lifted up, pushing her knees back and began to jackhammer into her. Sweat poured off his body, off her body, the sound of her wetness and the slapping of their thighs filled the room. 

Sansa’s eyes rolled back in her head and she opened her mouth, emitting a silent scream as she came. Her legs twitched and she heard Jon grunting, “That’s it. Cum for me, Sansa. Cum for me, you bitch.” 

And then he slammed one last time inside her and held himself there, unleashing his load inside her. 

Thank God she was on the pill. 

Jon slumped against her, releasing her legs, and he lay there, unmoving. Sansa didn’t mind. She liked the feel of him. For a while anyway. When she couldn’t take his weight anymore, she pushed at him and he rolled off onto his side and dragged her with him. 

“I meant what I said,” he told her, gripping her hip tightly and keeping her firmly against him. “I’m not done with you yet.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you @Israfel00!! :)

_Jon wouldn’t stop kissing her. Again and again and again he kept kissing her. Sansa’s lips felt swollen, but she returned his kisses, feeling unable to stop. It felt good to kiss him. And after burying their father and brothers, it felt needed._

_They’d stood side-by-side as the caskets had been lowered, their hands entwined, gripping each other as though they feared one of them would end up in that deep dark hole. Sansa couldn’t even contemplate something happening to Jon. She’d end up in that hole with him._

_Now their bodies were entwined on her bed and they were pressed tightly together. They held onto each other tightly, their lips not parting for more than a few seconds. Breathe, kiss kiss kiss, breathe, kiss kiss kiss._

_“I can’t get close enough,” Jon whined and attempted to press even closer._

_There was no closer to get, but Sansa understood what he meant. She felt the same way. Even pressed against each other, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough._

_“I want to crawl inside you,” he whispered. “I want to live inside you.”_

_She smiled. “You’re already inside me, Jon. Every part of me is you.” And it was true. He was always there, always with her._

_“And every part of you is me,” he said. “But it’s not enough. I need more.”_

_Her brow furrowed. “What kind of more?”_

_His eyes met hers, his expression serious. “I want to have sex with you, Sansa. I want to literally be inside you. Kissing you feels so good...I know if we had sex it would feel even better.”_

_She narrowed her eyes. “You sound like Jeyne’s boyfriend. In fact, you sound like a lot of the boys at school.”_

_“When I kiss you, Sansa, it’s like...it’s like a sugar rush. I feel it in my blood, this rush of energy. Do you feel it too?”_

_She nodded slowly. Every time Jon kissed her it felt like she was buzzing._

_“Can you imagine what it would be like if we had sex? It would be off the charts amazing.”_

_“Jon, we’re not even supposed to be kissing,” she hissed. “Can you imagine if Mom found out?”_

_“She won’t. We’ve been careful. Plus, I think Aunt Lysa gave her a pill to help her sleep tonight.”_

_“Arya?”_

_“Sleeps like the dead, you know that.”_

_Sansa winced. “Don’t say dead.”_

_His expression turned sorrowful. “I’m sorry.”_

_“You know, I’ve read that when someone dies some people reaffirm that they are alive by having sex.”_

_“Yeah, I know, and maybe that’s part of it, but it’s **you** , Sansa. Who else is going to make me feel better other than you? Who else can make you feel better other than me?”_

_“Uncle Benjen helped me today…”_

_“You know what I mean, Sansy. It’s not the same.”_

_No, he was right. It wasn’t. By Jon’s side was the only place she wanted to be right now. Or, ever really. And since they’d started kissing, it had gotten more intense. She noticed her brother more and more in ways she knew she shouldn’t. She never looked at Robb in that way. She never wanted to._

_She didn’t even notice other boys in school the way she noticed Jon. When her friends talked about other boys and how gorgeous they were, Sansa thought of Jon. She especially liked it when he took his shirt off. He didn’t have huge muscles, but one day he would. She thought he was the best looking boy in their entire school._

_And he told her every day how she was beautiful. He greeted her in the morning with a kiss. And every night, they found a way to be together in one of their bedrooms so they could kiss and be close to each other._

_Jon was everything to her._

_He was her brother, her best friend, her other half, her soul, her flesh and blood, and now...now he wanted to be her...what was the word? Lover? Partner? Boyfriend…? (That didn’t seem like the right word.) He wanted to take it to the next level and it wasn’t just **sex** , she knew that. It was about being even more connected and joined. It was getting as close as humanly possible and feeling that on a deeper level. _

_It might kill her if kissing him was anything to go by._

_“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered._

_“I have a rough idea.”_

_“How?”_

_He shrugged. “Porn.”_

_Her eyes went wide. “You watch porn?”_

_“I have.”_

_That sparked her jealousy. Just like any time she saw Jon talking and laughing with some girl that wasn’t her. She would go out of her way to make sure he saw her talking to some boy just to make him jealous back. It worked without fail every single time._

_“Do you wish I looked like them?” she asked._

_He laughed softly and she smacked his arm. “Sansa. They’re not real.”_

_“Good save.”_

_“I mean, yeah, their tits are bigger--”_

_“You’re an asshole,” she snapped and attempted to move off the bed._

_Jon wouldn’t let her though. He grabbed her and held her tight against him. “My sweet girl. You’re my Sansa. You’re my everything. I want to have sex with you because you’re my Sansa. You’re my heart and my soul...I love you. I love you like no other. And I know I never will.”_

_Tears stung her eyes. He had a way with words. She didn’t think any boy his age was this romantic._

_“I want to, but I’m afraid,” she whispered. “I’ve heard it hurts.”_

_“I’ve heard that, too,” he frowned. “I don’t think there’s any getting around that.”_

_“And what about protection? I don’t want to get pregnant.”_

_“I have condoms.”_

_Her eyes went wide. “Where did you get condoms?!”_

_He put a hand over her mouth and tilted his head toward his closed door. “Ssssh, Sansa, you’ll wake Mom and Arya.” He took his hand away. “I got them from Grenn at school.”_

_“Wow,” Sansa breathed. “Did he ask why you needed them?”_

_“I think he could guess, San.”_

_She poked him in the stomach and he winced. “I mean, he must wonder what girl you’re planning to use them on.”_

_“I told him it was some girl from another school.”_

_Sansa rolled her eyes. “An answer for everything. How long have you been planning this?”_

_“For a long time. Can’t you feel how hard I get when we kiss?”_

_“And how you try to dry hump me?” she asked with a giggle. “I may have noticed.”_

_“You’re a brat,” he muttered, but his eyes were smiling. He reached up and ran a hand through her hair. “I love you, Sansa. You’re my girl and I’m your guy. I want my first time and all my times to be with you. Do you want the same?”_

_She nodded, blushing. “How do we start?”_

_He smiled and leaned in. “With more kissing.”_

_Sansa smiled back and met him halfway. She put her trust in him completely. He was her Jon; he’d never hurt her. Not intentionally anyway._

**********

He’d worn her out. Jon looked down at her after emerging from the bathroom. He’d taken her a second time and then they’d had a bit of a snooze. He’d woken first and went to clean up a bit. He had a washcloth in hand for her to do the same.

Now, he found himself mesmerized by her. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said she was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. He’d nearly been brought to his knees when he’d seen her get out of her car in the parking garage at the museum. He’d followed her, unbeknownst to her, when she’d finally emerged from the gated driveway to that house she shared with The Boyfriend. 

Just the thought of The Boyfriend made Jon grit his teeth. He leaned down and grabbed her ankle, gave her a leg a little shake. “Wake up, Sansa.”

She jumped, letting out an unladylike snort in the process and it almost made him laugh. Some things never changed. He tamped down the urge to laugh though. He didn’t even want to smile. He just wanted to be angry with her. 

It was hard though. He loved her so damn fucking much and he felt whole and complete now that he was with her again. His body was humming from the two rounds they’d had, and he wanted more. He wanted all day and all night. Having sex with Sansa energized him. It made him feel like a live wire and she was the electricity fed him. 

It was just how she’d described it once upon a time…

She moved that red mass of hair from her eyes and looked up at him. Her eyes. Jesus. Those blue eyes killed him. He wanted to just lose himself in them over and over and over again. 

He tossed her the damp washcloth. It hit her in the arm and fell to the pillow. She picked it up and sat up, blushing as she glanced at him. He hadn’t bothered to dress. 

“Thanks,” she murmured. She climbed out of the bed. 

“Where are you going?” he asked tightly. 

She blinked. “To the bathroom.”

He nodded slowly and watched her go. All those curves…

Sansa was all woman now. Her tits had grown, she trimmed her bush now, and her ass had filled out. He felt his dick getting hard again. He sat down on the bed and stared at her clothes on the floor. The floor with stains on it. He buried his head in his hands. What must she think of him being in a place like this? It made him angry that he wasn’t somewhere nicer -- 

That prick she was with, he had money. He’d looked the house up on the internet and there had been an old photo of it from when it had been on the market just before one Jaime Lannister bought it. He was something of a local celebrity, coming to Lys with money already from his wealthy family and now owning not one but two successful restaurants. 

She lived on the beach for fuck’s sake. It was her dream come true. 

Once, he’d promised her that. He’d promised they would live on the beach together, just the two of them away from anyone who might attempt to keep them apart. 

Never had he thought Sansa would be the one to do that to them. 

When he heard the door open, he looked up as came she came out with the white robe that had been in there wrapped around her. He narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing with that on?”

“I didn’t take my clothes in--”

“You don’t need your clothes,” he said, cutting her off. 

“Are you hungry? I’m starving.”

“I’ve got food in the fridge.”

She glanced at the little fridge near the door. “What do you have?”

“Half a sandwich.”

“I can’t eat that.”

“Why not?”

“What will you eat?”

He grinned and leaned back on his elbows, showing her his half hard cock. “You?”

“Jon, maybe we could go get something--”

He rolled his eyes. “How about I get something and you keep your sweet ass here?”

“Let me get you some money--”

He jumped up, startling her. “You think I can’t afford to pay for food, Sansa? You think I can’t afford to feed you? I might not be able to get you caviar--”

“I don’t even _like_ caviar,” she retorted. “I’m not implying anything, I’m just willing to pay for my own food--”

“I got it,” he growled and stormed over to get his jeans off the floor. He yanked them on followed by his shirt. He stormed over to his socks and boots and sat down on the bed to put them on. “What fancy things you like now living in that big house with that guy?”

“Grilled cheese with tomato is still my favorite,” she murmured, looking down at the floor sadly. 

Jon thought of them together at their tree after school, Sansa nibbling on her goddamned grilled cheese with tomato. 

He finished putting on his boots and stood. She still wouldn’t look at him and it pissed him off. He stormed over to her and snatched her in his arms, kissing her deeply, bending her back over his arm. “I’ll find something for you to eat, Princess. I expect you to be back in bed with that damn robe off by the time I come back.”

“Jon,” she murmured, putting one hand on the side of his face. “Gentle…”

He let her go without a word, ignoring how that one word made him feel like a brute. He wasn’t a brute. He was just angry with the world. He’d been robbed of so much. Practically all his teenage years. He’d been robbed of chances and opportunities to be that guy with the mansion on the beach with Sansa by his side. He’d missed so much - including seeing Sansa grow into the woman she was now. 

It twisted his insides. 

“Bed. Naked. Understand?” he said, gentler, but still no less commanding. 

She nodded. 

He left, slamming the door behind him and fought back the tears that threatened to fall as he made his way to the rental car in the parking lot.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> israfel00: [](https://imgur.com/DKPleZ1)

_It was better the third time than the first and second time. Sansa let Jon know this when he rolled off of her in her bed. She still hadn’t managed to orgasm, but they were still learning._

_From listening to Jeyne, Sansa had learned that girls rarely orgasmed through intercourse alone, and sometimes not at all. Jeyne said that she didn’t always, but that her boyfriend always found ways to bring her off._

_“You didn’t cum,” Jon said with a frown as he handed her tissues from his nightstand to clean herself with._

_“Well, in all fairness, this was the first time it didn’t hurt.”_

_He looked horrified. “You didn’t say anything the last time! Why didn’t you say anything?”_

_She shrugged. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I just figured it was one of those things that would take some getting used to.”_

_Jon rolled onto his side and tucked some hair behind her ear. “I want you to cum, Sansa. It’s not fun for you if you don’t.”_

_She smiled. “I get to be close to you. I get to feel you inside me.”_

_He smiled back, almost shyly. “What does it feel like?”_

_“Like I stuck my finger in an electric socket,” she giggled. “It’s like I’m a live wire and you’re the electricity.”_

_“Same,” he murmured. His eyes grew soft; tender. “I love you, Sansy.”_

_“I love you too,” she whispered shyly._

_He bit his lip and placed his hand on her bare belly. Slowly, it drifted down to her hip._

_She arched a brow and looked at him. “Jon?”_

_He looked at her. “I want to try something.”_

_“What?”_

_He grinned. “You’ll see. Just lie back and relax.”_

Sansa didn’t know what to do. Jon was angry; she could feel it coming off of him in waves. The only time she didn’t feel it was when they’d made love. Or fucked. That’s what it had been after all. A rough fucking meant to satiate immediate needs and, aside from a couple of moments, not much in the way of anything else.

It was still a form of connecting for them. That charge was still there, that buzz.

And yet Sansa found herself still missing him. The gentleness that her Jon had was gone. He was all alpha now, ordering her about, demanding she stay naked, calling her a bitch, saying derogatory things about Jaime --

_Jaime._

God. Jaime.

On the one hand it was cheating what she did. On the other hand, this was also - how did Jon always explain it before? This was just them. What they were, what they did. Jon was not “some other man”. He was her twin. He was the other half of her. In her world with Jon, Jaime was the other man, not the other way around.

But...but…

But wasn’t this _her_ world now? There had been Jon before Jaime. But she’d moved on. She started her life over. She put the past behind her. Or tried to anyway. She had a job, a home with her boyfriend, a couple close friends - Jon had infiltrated her new life. There hadn’t been “Jon and Sansa” for a long time. There had been just Sansa. And then Jaime and Sansa.

It was hard though to separate Jon from all of that because even when he wasn’t there he _still was_. Always in the back of her mind. Never very far away.

Shedding the robe, Sansa climbed back into the bed and lay on her side, the covers over her. She hated Jon being in this place. It was too dark and dirty for him. It probably didn’t help his mood. She thought maybe she could offer to put him somewhere else, but then thought against it. Considering how he’d reacted when she just offered to pay for her food, she couldn’t imagine how he’d react if she offered to pay for him to stay somewhere else.

Her mind wandered - what were his plans now? What were _her_ plans now? Did he plan to get a job in Lys? Or did he plan to leave - no, that was silly. He wasn’t going to leave her. Not again. They’d barely survived the first separation, how would they manage another? But then how did Jon fit in her new life? How did _they_ fit now?

The same connection was there. The same bond. The same need and hunger.

But with so much between them was all that enough?

She’d spent so much time worrying that Jon was going to find her, and then so much time waiting for him to show himself when he did find her that she hadn’t thought about anything else beyond that moment she saw him again.

And now that moment had come and gone.

And she knew nothing. Absolutely nothing about where to go from here.

She was pulled from her maudlin meanderings by the door opening and shutting. He locked it and zeroed in on her immediately. He almost looked relieved to see her as though he thought she might leave. Where would she go that he would not find her now?

He held a paper bag in his hand and at the side she could see it was a bit wet. She caught the scent of fries and smiled as she sat up. Grease. He got them some greasy fries to go with whatever else he got.

Her stomach let loose with a loud growl and his mouth twitched as he placed the bag down on the bed. He then kicked off his boots and peeled off his socks. He got on the bed with her and dug into the bag, handing her a warm package wrapped in parchment paper. She uncovered it greedily and laughed with delight - grilled cheese with tomato.

“Happy now, Princess?” he asked as he dug out a container of fries followed by two Cokes.

She nodded to his wrapped sandwich. “What did you get?”

“Same,” he said, but didn’t look at her when he said it.

They ate in silence and Sansa thought of saying that they must be hungry to not even be speaking. It was something their Dad would say during those rare dinners together when everyone just focused on their food and not much else after a long busy day.

But the silence wasn’t comfortable. Not like it used to be when she was with Jon alone. The two of them could have sat for hours in silence and nothing about it was odd. Just being together in the same room was enough. But this...this was not easy. It was hard. And Sansa hated every minute of it. He’d been inside her less than two hours ago and yet they had nothing to say to each other?

Her mind filled with questions to ask - what happened to you in prison? Were you beat up? Is that how you got that scar on your arm and the one on your chest and the one on your belly? What about the small one above your eye? Did someone take care of you? Take you under their wing? What was it like?

Can you forgive me? Can you forgive me? Can you forgive me?

He was the closest person to her on the planet and yet he might as well have been planets away from her.

“Done?” he asked when her sandwich was gone and was more or less picking at the fries.

She nodded and he got up and cleaned up the mess. She stood to shake out the comforter of crumbs.

“Where are you going now?” he asked.

“I’m just getting the crumbs of the comforter,” she told him.

While she did that, he undressed. It felt odd, knowing he planned to fuck her again. Like he was crossing off “Third fuck of the day with Sansa” off a to do list.

When the comforter was back on the bed, he came up behind her and pulled her back against him, letting her feel his hard cock in the crack of her ass.

She moaned; she couldn’t help it.

“I want you,” he murmured in her ear.

“I can tell,” she attempted to joke.

“You know what I never got to take?”

She shook her head.

“Your ass.”

She pushed away from him and spun to face him, eyes wide. “No. If that’s what you’re planning to do then I’m leaving.”

“You’re not fucking going _anywhere_ , Sansa. I told you, I’m not through with you.”

He moved closer to her and she moved back, holding her arm out straight to keep him at bay.

“I told you not to deny me, Sansa,” he growled. “If you won’t let me take your ass, I won’t. Not this time anyway.”

“Did you - have you…?” She couldn’t believe she was asking this question and yet how could she not? It wasn’t like she didn’t hear things about prison. She heard plenty of things.

(How can you forgive me?)

“Are you asking if I was fucked up the ass in prison?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

She nodded.

“Almost. It was stopped.”

A whoosh of air - relief - came out of her. “What happened?”

He made a face. “You don’t want to talk about this, Sansa.”

“I do,” she said. “I want to know what happened to you in there.”

“Oh, now you suddenly care what happened to me?”

Her eyes welled up in tears. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair? _Not fair_?! I was in fucking prison at sixteen years old. _Life_ isn’t fair, Sansa.” He pointed at her. “You cut me out. You didn’t want anything to do with me, remember?”

She shook her head. “That’s not true. It’s not that I didn’t - Jon, I couldn’t! It was too much. You were there all the time and I couldn’t do anything to help you. I couldn’t feel or hear or do anything but feel your fear and it was so loud in my head--”

“I did what you asked me to do! I was there because you asked me to protect you!”

“I didn’t think you’d _kill_ him!”

“Bullshit! You knew. You knew. I asked you if you trusted me to take care of it. You said yes. What the fuck did you think I meant? I wasn’t going to fucking threaten Petyr. That wasn’t going to do a damn thing and you know it. I tried that. Sansa, he was going to rape you and we both knew that one day he’d go after Arya, too.”

“But you weren’t supposed to get caught!” she shouted, feeling rather hysterical at that point. “You weren’t supposed to go away!”

“But I did and you left me to rot in there!” he shouted back. “Everything I did was to protect you. Everything I did was to keep us together and you left me, Sansa. You left me when I was the most scared I’d ever been.”

She broke down in tears. She wanted to tell him that she couldn’t handle the guilt on top of his fear. She had put him behind bars by making Petyr want her and by asking Jon to protect her. If only she hadn’t made Petyr sick and want her then none of this would have happened.

“Stop crying,” he ordered, his anger evident. “I don’t want your fucking tears.”

“Then what do you want?”

As soon as it came out of her mouth she realized she’d asked the wrong thing. She’d set herself up for him stalking over to her and yanking her in his arms. For how he ground his cock into her and whispered savagely, “This. I want _this_.”

He pushed her onto the bed and climbed over her again, sticking his hand in between her legs. “Not quite wet enough,” he muttered and pulled his hand away. He licked two fingers and stuck them back in between her legs and started moving them inside her.

Sansa shuddered and spread her legs wider. It hurt a little; he was being too rough. She jutted her hand out and gripped his wrist. “You’re hurting me.”

He swore and moved off of her. He got to his feet, his back to her.

“Jon--”

“I can’t do anything right, can I? I wasn’t supposed to kill him, I wasn’t supposed to go away, I wasn’t supposed to share what I was going through with you. I’m being too rough...what else, Sansa?”

“Do you want to hurt me? Will it make you feel better if you do?” she asked softly.

He stiffened and then heaved a sigh and hung his head. “ _No_ ,” he said and it sounded anguished. Mournful even. It was the most emotion she’d seen from his thus far.

“I should go,” she said softly and moved off the bed as well. She reached for her clothes.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said quietly.

“I still think I should. I’m not up to another round at the moment, Jon. And I don’t think you are either despite what your body is telling you.”

He turned to face her. His jaw clenched tight. “I don’t want you to go home to _him_. You belong here with me.”

“Are you sure about that?” she whispered, hating that she couldn’t seem to stop fucking crying.

He moved so fast - he was right in front of her before she could think to step away. He reached for her and then stopped, shut his eyes and took a breath and then let his hand fall to his side. He opened his eyes and peered intensely into hers. “I meant what I said, Sansa. I’m not going to let you shut me out again. I’m not going to go away. I’m here now and you have to figure out what that means for you and that boy of yours.”

“Jon--”

“Do you understand me?”

She nodded. What else could she do? He’d never let her go otherwise.

He walked away from her and went for his own clothes. She dressed quickly; he put his jeans on. He watched her silently and she could see by the pained look in his eyes that it was hard for him to let her leave.

“How can you even want me after all this?” she asked when she was dressed.

He laughed, a dark humorless laugh. “How can I want you? You know how this works by now, Sansa. Or did you forget after all the time you spent shutting me out? Wanting you is like breathing. Loving you is like breathing. I can no more stop what I want and need from you than I can stop the sun rising in the morning and setting in the evening. That’s how this works. It’s how it’s always worked.”

“But--”

“There are no buts.” he snapped. “Stop pretending like this is just some kind of sickness with a cure. Or that it’s a phase and it’ll go away. It didn’t then, and it won’t now. No matter how much you put between us, Sansa, and how much time has passed, it’s always there.” He hit his chest with his hand. “You’re always there. Right there. I can’t get you out. And I know that you feel it too.” He put his hand to her chest. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong,” she said, her voice cracking. “But how can you forgive me for shutting you out? Can you ever? If you can’t what does that mean?”

“It never stops, Sansa. No matter what, it never stops.”

It wasn’t an answer. It was a warning.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you @israfel00!!

_“Kids, I want you to meet someone,” Catelyn said as she entered the living room. Arya was playing a video game, and Jon was sitting next to Sansa on the couch, the both of them reading. Their sides touched as they always did. He felt Sansa scoot a bit to the side and he scowled at her. He hated it when she felt the need to move away from him just because their mother was around._

_Arya grunted at Catelyn, and Sansa looked over at her mother silently. Jon kept his gaze trained on Sansa._

_Catelyn’s smile was fake, he could tell that in an instant. She was nervous about something._

_“Arya, will you please look at me?” Catelyn said and Jon could hear in her voice that she was losing her patience. She lost it a lot quicker since Dad and the boys had been gone. The first three months she had been inconsolable, the last three she’d been short-tempered. Sansa made herself smaller because of it. Jon stayed out of her way when he could, and Arya was sullen and angry all the time. But instead of directing it at their mother, it was directed toward Sansa and Jon, but most often Sansa._

_Arya put the game on pause and turned to look at their mother. She looked annoyed._

_Catelyn sighed. “Okay, as I was saying. I want you all to meet Petyr Baelish. He’s the attorney that I’ve been working with regarding your father’s will. He’s been a dear friend to me...he’s...he’s quite important to me.”_

_Jon narrowed his eyes, Sansa stiffened and Arya’s looked cautiously and warily at the tall man that entered. They were all on the same page with this one. Did “important to me” and “dear friend” mean they were dating?_

_“Hello, children,” Petyr said._

_Instantly, Jon hated him. His smile was slimy, his blue eyes were cold. He held himself with a regalness that made Jon ill-at-ease. This was a man who thought highly of himself._

_He came up to Arya first and held out his hand. “You must be Arya.”_

_Arya took his hand limply and he shook it. She withdrew her hand and rubbed it on her pants._

_Then he came over to Jon and Sansa, and Jon fought the urge to snarl at him. Especially when he looked at Sansa. His eyes lit up and Jon wanted to snap at him to get away from her._

_“How old are you now, child?” he asked Sansa._

_Sansa cleared her throat. “Fifteen.”_

_“So young and so beautiful.” He looked at Catelyn. “She looks like you.”_

_Catelyn blushed, oblivious to how this man gushed about Sansa but not Arya. Arya had noticed though and she glared daggers at Sansa._

_Jon stood. He wasn’t as tall as Petyr, but he knew how to hold himself with authority. “I’m Jon,” he said and held out his hand._

_Petyr smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes and he shook Jon’s hand firmly. Jon squeezed and there was a flash of a challenge in Petyr’s eyes. His slimy smile broadened. “How nice to meet you, Jon.”_

__

**********

Sansa pulled into the driveway at home and sat there, long after she’d turned off the car, hands on the wheel, just staring straight ahead at her and Jaime’s bikes mounted on the wall in the garage. When was the last time they had taken the bikes out? It had been a while and it was a lot of fun on the roads near their house. There was barely any traffic for one, and the hills were amazing. The last time they’d gone, she’d spread her arms wide while riding down the middle of the road and shouted, “I’m king of the world!” Jaime had worriedly told her to put her hands back on the handlebars and to get on the side of the road.

That was her Jaime. Always looking out for her. 

And if she didn’t get in the house soon, he was probably going to come down looking for her. 

With every movement she made to get out of her car and into the house came a new thought: _I am a liar. A fake. A poser. I’m a cheater. I am scum. I do not deserve Jaime._

By the time she got up to the kitchen, where she could smell deliciousness wafting to her nose and making her mouth water, she wanted to sob. She’d spent most of the afternoon fucking her brother. She could still feel him inside her. She knew she had some of his seed dried on her thighs. God only knew the marks he’d left on her from how hard he’d gripped her while they’d fucked. 

When she entered the kitchen finally, she found she couldn’t even look at Jaime. She did her best cheerful, “Hello!”

And then he came over to her from where he was making something garlicky and buttery on the stove and swept her up in his arms for a proper kiss. Thank God she’d at least popped a mint on the way home. She could still taste Jon though, and she had a moment’s panic that Jaime would be able to taste him, too. 

But he didn’t, and it was ridiculous to think that he would. He wouldn’t suspect her of infidelity. And he wouldn’t suspect her of infidelity with her brother even if she told him Jon was here in Lys. Knowing Jaime, he’d probably suggest he come over for dinner. 

That just made her guilt worse. This was why men bought trinkets for their wives and girlfriends after an affair. To somehow make it all up to them and alleviate their guilt as if that would do any good. Even if she were to see a smile on Jaime’s face after doing something extra for him or giving him something, it would never make up for how much guilt she felt. 

With Jon it was easy to pretend that she wasn’t cheating on Jaime. With Jon everything else faded away. Even, apparently, her morals. A case could be made for the morality of sleeping with her brother regardless of significant others, but that was something that led down a rabbit hole Sansa wasn’t keen on jumping down. She’d dealt with all that when they were kids. Jon wasn’t just her brother; he never had been “just” anything. He had always been _everything._

(Was he everything still?)

“I’m making a garlic wine sauce over pasta and chicken to go with it,” Jaime told her with a smile. “Sound good?”

Sansa buried her face in his chest. “It sounds wonderful. It smells so good.”

He stroked her hair and Sansa squeezed her eyes shut to stave off the tears that threatened to come. She didn’t deserve his gentleness and his love. She deserved...well, she deserved how Jon had treated her. She deserved to be treated roughly and with little care for so many wrongs. 

“How’s my girl today?” Jaime asked softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Your girl is good. Your girl wants to shower this day off and change. And then I want to hear all about _your_ day.”

“Alayne?”

Another reminder of what a liar and a fake she was. “Hmmm?”

“Will you look at me?”

She did, but it took some doing.

He leaned down and kissed her gently. “How are you feeling about...stuff?”

“I’m fine, Jaime. I am.” _Liar liar pants on fire!_

“Siblings are...hard,” he said with a frown. 

She nodded and pushed away from him. “Family is hard period.”

“My sister Cersei and I….” He sighed. “We used to be close once. Very close.”

_Did you fuck her?_ she wanted to ask. But you didn’t ask people with siblings that - twins or otherwise. No one she’d ever come across was like her and Jon. 

“What happened?”

“She got married and became a different person,” he said simply. “Someone cruel. Someone I didn’t recognize. No, I take that back. She became our father. And I didn’t want to know her anymore. I couldn’t.”

“But you have Tyrion,” she said, injecting some hope in her voice. He nodded, his expression shuttered. It made her curious. “Do you ever hear from her?” she asked gently. 

“Sometimes.”

“What does she say when you do?”

“Nothing of importance. The point is, I know that family can be hard. And you’re right. I do have Tyrion. Is there anyone you have, Alayne, left in your family to talk to? I mean, you said your uncle called to tell you about your brother--”

“Jaime, can we - can we just not talk about this?”

“Alayne--”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said firmly. “Please respect that.”

He sighed, nodded. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I know you’re trying to help.” _It’s just there’s no way you can help me. No one can. Not with this._

“Go shower and change,” he murmured, turning back to the stove. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

And now she just felt worse.

*************

Jon was restless. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, ignoring the smell of weed that was wafting into his room. He was tempted to get some, it would certainly help mellow him out a bit, but it meant having to socialize with people and he wasn’t a huge fan.

He wanted Sansa. He wanted her right there beside him. Under him, on top of him - anyway he could get her really. He just wanted her there. 

He kept thinking of her in her posh house with her posh boyfriend in some posh bed…

Was she thinking of him? Was she having sex with that wanker she lived with? 

_She fucking better not be…_

He thought of the fingerprints he’d left on her hips when he’d taken her from behind and thought perhaps she’d wait a while before letting that prick touch her. 

He thought of her face. How beautiful she was. Of her body, and how she was all womanly curves with full breasts and a shapely ass. He thought of her mouth and how he wanted to put his dick in between those lips. 

Her skin was so soft and she smelled so damn good. Like a bouquet of flowers and he just wanted to bury his face in her and inhale her. 

Hard now, he spit in his hand and grasped his cock. He focused on Sansa, wanting her to feel his arousal and his want of her. He closed his eyes and stroked, squeezing the tip just a little. He thought about how tight she was, how it felt to be inside her. How hard she made him and how beautiful she was. He thought about her smile and her laughter. He thought about her tits bouncing with each thrust inside her and how her ass wiggled. He imagined her mouth on him, taking him down her throat while he tangled his hands in that mass of red and fucked her mouth. 

He came with a grunt, his hips arching, thrusting, as though she was riding him and he was cumming inside her. His cum spurted out, going over the bed, on the bed, on him. He collapsed against it, sweaty and hot and weakened by orgasm. 

_Tomorrow,_ he thought, expecting she would hear him. _I’m coming for you._

He chuckled to himself at the pun and got up to wash himself and clean up the bed. Halfway to the bathroom he stopped dead in his tracks thinking - what if he had just turned her on and she decided to find relief with The Boyfriend?

“Fuck,” he muttered and went to find his phone to call her --

Only to realize they had never fucking exchanged numbers. 

“Fuck!” he shouted. 

He stormed into the bathroom to wash up muttering, “Don’t you fucking do anything with him, Sansa. I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll rip his head from his goddamn shoulders.”

After washing up, he threw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and prowled around the hotel room feeling like a caged animal. He tried to reach out through the bond, but came up short. She could be sleeping. Sleeping was good. Sleeping he could handle. 

The scent of weed tickled his nose. He gazed at the door, weighing his options. Sit here and stew about how he felt utterly powerless or get a little high. Getting high sounded fanfuckingtastic at the moment. So, he put on some shoes and headed out, hoping he found the source.

*********

Sansa awoke with her hand between her legs. She moaned as bits and pieces of her dream came back to her - her on her knees, on her back...Jon’s dick in her mouth. Her eyes popped open as she swam fully to consciousness and she still felt that familiar tingle of horniness and the words _“Tomorrow, I’m coming for you”_ reverberating through her head followed by a stern warning: _“Don’t you fucking do anything with him, Sansa. I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll rip his head from his goddamn shoulders.”_

 _Like I’d have sex with him after fucking you twice today,_ she thought bitterly. _Who do you take me for, Jon?_

Sitting up, she stared across the bedroom and then glanced over at Jaime. His back was to her, indicative of the chasm between them now. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out if it was her own paranoia and guilt or if it was this thing about Jon and what she’d told him that was between them. She hated it. She hated the thought of hurting him. He was such a good man and she didn’t deserve someone as good as him. 

He didn’t even know her real name. Jaime loved a lie. He loved someone she wanted to be not who she was and it made her feel gross. Getting up, she went to the bathroom and used the facilities and then rooted around in the medicine cabinet for some Advil PM. She popped a couple and then went back to bed, hoping Jon didn’t send her anything more salacious. 

She _almost_ had to laugh. The idea of getting mad at someone for “dream cheating” on you was ridiculous, yet for her apparently, it was a real thing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hottt banner by @asongforjonsa!! 
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> [](https://imgur.com/RJ7DRq5)  
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> And this hotttt one by @tragedyofromance!
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> [](https://imgur.com/UZf8Eyt)  
> 

_It was disgusting to both Jon and Sansa that after the initial cold reception, all it took to sway Arya to Petyr’s side was her own laptop.  
Or so it seemed. _

_What it really was, Sansa deduced, was the fact that she and Jon didn’t like him and their mother’s displeasure with them over it._

********

Sansa wasn’t surprised when she got the phone call on her office phone from the receptionist, Brienne, that someone was there to see her. Not only did she know he wouldn’t be able to hold off on seeing her, but she also felt him as soon as he arrived as if he was standing right next to her. 

“Shall I send him up or will you come down?” asked Brienne. 

Sansa could practically see her friend sizing Jon up in that shrewd way she had. She wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of such scrutiny but she had a feeling Jon didn’t give a flying fuck what Brienne thought of him. No doubt to Brienne though, he looked like a wild thing, not at all like the perfectly put together men and women who came looking for her. 

“I’ll come down,” Sansa said. Outside seemed a good place to go to talk to Jon. Away from flat surfaces and the possibility of their voices carrying. 

She hung up the phone and stood, gathering some papers from her faux wooden desk and shoving them in an empty manilla folder, and then shutting down the “work” she’d been doing on her computer by closing out all the windows. She straightened and smoothed down her dress - nothing fancy, but professional in nature - and slipped her feet back into her red flats. Grabbing the file folder, she headed out of the office and wondered if she should reapply her gloss. But that would indicate a level of trying that she just didn’t feel comfortable with. 

She was still confused as to what she wanted to do and what she wanted to happen, but she figured a good first step was in not fucking Jon again. Instead, she had other plans for him - and hopefully he was amenable to them. 

When she made it to the first floor receptionist desk, she found Jon sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting area and Brienne watching him closely as though she expected him to do something disruptive. 

He was wearing black jeans and a gray t-shirt with a black flannel on. He was almost hanging off the chair, his long legs spread out before him as though sitting up was just too much work. He did sit up though, when he saw her and then stood, licking his lips as he looked her over. 

Sansa was hit with a wave of lust coming from him that threatened to knock her over. He knew it too, if his grin was anything to go by. She shot him a look, thanked Brienne, and then said to Jon, “Will you follow me, please?”

He nodded, saluted to Brienne, and then followed Sansa as she made her way out the glass double doors and then down a long narrow hall. At the end of it was a door that led outside, and Sansa hurried to reach it before Jon could try any funny business. 

“Trying to run from me, San?” he asked, and she heard him gaining on her. 

“No,” she said. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She made it to the door without incident and had just pushed it open, when Jon came up behind her, pressing himself against her back and pushing her outside. 

“Jon,” she gasped. “What are you doing?”

He spun her around and pushed her against the gray cement wall of the building. One hand rested by her head, the other by her shoulder. He tilted his head to the side. “What’s wrong, Sansa? Think by coming out here I won’t try to kiss you? Fuck you? You’re wearing a dress again.”

He started to lean in and Sansa ducked under his arm by her head and stepped away from the wall. She held up the file folder despite his growl at her and said, “I have some things I’d like to discuss with you.”

His eyes narrowed as he faced her. “Do you now?”

“I’ve been thinking that if you plan to stay here--”

He snorted. “You think you’re getting rid of me?”

She faltered, her shoulders dropping. “Well, no.”

“Then what’s with this ‘if’ stuff? Do you want me to leave, Sansa? Leave you and pretty boy alone?”

“I didn’t say that,” she huffed. Though she couldn’t deny that if he did that it would make life easier. Yet even as she thought it, she felt dread pool in her belly. Now that he was here how could she be without him nearby? 

Was it possible to want two contradictory things at the same time? Because that was how she felt. 

“What’s in that folder there, sweetheart?”

She cleared her throat. “I gathered some information for you on how to change your name. And, well, how to kind of make your past history disappear so you can get a job easier.”

“Is that your way of telling me you don’t want me to get a job working at a warehouse or shoveling shit.”

“Is this how the conversation is going to go? You putting words in my mouth and making it seem like I’m some snobby bitch who thinks you doing anything like ‘shoveling shit’ is below me or something?”

“You live in that big house--”

“You’re the one who keeps bringing it up, not me,” she said. She felt guilty for the uncharitable thoughts she’d had about him and his living conditions. She might have thought terrible things, but she wasn’t ever going to voice them out loud. 

“Oh, get off it, Sansa. I know how you like pretty things. You always have.”

She winced, thinking of Petyr and how he’d tried to buy her into liking him. “Not always,” she said softly. And because it was Jon and he could read her well, plus because what brought them to this point was now never far from their mind, he frowned and said just as softly, “I know.”

“Do you want me to help you or not?” she asked. “Because if you don’t, then I’ll go back inside and just toss this stuff out. If you do, then perhaps you could shut up for five minutes and let me help you.”

He glared at her and part of her expected him to tell her to fuck off. But then he said a very stiff, very grudging “Fine” and held out his hand. 

She looked over her shoulder at the round cement bench with green hostas growing in the middle of it. “Let’s go sit over there.”

He followed her over and they sat down side-by-side, his shoulder and thigh pressing against hers. She opened the folder and began to go over all the information she’d collected, telling him how she’d managed to change her name. “It does cost money to do it officially,” she told him. She didn’t want to tell him she’d help him if he needed it. 

“Are you telling me you’re officially Alayne Stone?” he asked. He sounded angry by the prospect, but then he had such a chip on his shoulder he sounded angry about everything. 

“Yes,” she said. 

He looked away from her, his hands balling up into fists on his lap. 

“Jon,” she began gently. 

He looked at her, his eyes blazing. In the next second he was jumping up and tearing the file from her hands. He tossed it on the bench and yanked her up to her feet and then dragged her to the small alley several feet away. Above them was the atrium that connected the two buildings that made up the museum. Visitors were able to walk to special exhibits and their modern art collection from the first building to the next using that atrium. And since it was encased with glass and they really weren’t far away from the street, Sansa was a bit alarmed. Surely he wouldn’t do anything inappropriate out here, would he?

He shoved her back against the wall and leaned in, getting in her face. “Do you think that changing your name is going to change anything about who you are, Sansa?”

She kept silent. She wasn’t sure he would even listen to any response anyway. 

“You’re Sansa Stark of Winterfell no matter what you do and where you go and who you see,” he told her, his voice a fierce whisper. “You’re the daughter of Ned Stark. You’re my sister, my _twin_ and the other half of me. You are _mine_ , Sansa.”

He kissed her hard then, pressing himself against her. She felt him fumbling with her skirt and she pushed his arms back. “Jon, no.”

“What do you mean, no? I want you. I need you. Let me inside you, Sansa, you know you want it…”

“Was that why you sent me those images last night? To turn me on?”

His eyes narrowed. “You better not have done anything with pretty boy after that.”

She laughed humorlessly. “What’s wrong, Jon? Afraid your scheme backfired? I got that loud and clear when you sent me that threat about ripping his head off. Very mature.”

His nostrils flared. “About as mature as running off the way you did.”

“Fuck you,” she snapped. 

“That’s what I want, sweetheart,” he muttered and went for her skirt again. 

“Jon, I said no. Not out here like this.”

“Then where? When? Is that why I couldn’t see your posh office? Afraid I’d take you on your desk?”

“You can’t possibly be that horny.”

“It’s not all about just that and you know it. I’ve been without you for fifteen years, Sansa. Yesterday was just a taste. I need you, much as I hate to fucking admit it. And I know you need me, too.”

He leaned in, nuzzling at her neck and then biting down gently. “Fuck, you smell so sweet…”

“Jon,” she whispered, feeling herself weaken. 

“Let me have you,” he whispered back. “Let me make us both complete.”

Somewhere from deep inside, Sansa rallied her strength and pushed him away. “No.”

He scowled at her. 

She pointed up, he looked up as people filed past in the atrium. He smirked. “They could have gotten a better show down here than the one inside.”

“My museum is gorgeous I’ll have you know,” she said. “We have a lot of older pieces from the reign of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, not to mention fragments of old Lysene temples-- ”

“Spare me a history lesson, Sansa.”

“You used to like history.”

“Something about being in prison kind of killed it for me. When can I see you?”

Sansa sighed and rubbed her forehead. She felt a headache coming on. Her shoulders were going up to her ears, too. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he growled. “Fucking figure it out, Sansa. If you think you can put me off and I’ll just take scraps from you, you’ve got another think coming.” He stepped into her space and leaned down until he was in her face. “If you don’t make time for me, Sansa, I’ll go to lover boy and tell him everything. How do you think he’d take it?”

She glared at him. “You are hateful.”

“Too bad you can’t hate me though, huh?”

“I’ll come by tomorrow.”

Jon shook his head. “Not good enough. Tonight.”

She pursed her lips together and looked at him witheringly. “Fine,” she said. “On one condition.”

He smirked. “This should be good.”

“You look at the stuff I printed out.”

“Are you going to quiz me on it?”

She shut her eyes briefly, praying for patience. “No. But I want you to have a plan outside of that shitty hotel.”

“Fuck you, Sansa. Seriously, just fuck you.”

“Does that mean you don’t want me to come over after all?”

His nostrils flared. “No.” He pulled his phone out from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it over to her. “Put your number in, and I don’t think I have to tell you to make sure it’s the _right_ number.”

She rolled her eyes and did an angry punch of her number into his phone. She handed it back. “Happy now?”

He stuffed the phone back in his back pocket and then snatched her into his arms. “Not quite,” he murmured. “Give us a kiss, Sansa.”

She did, and with plenty of tongue to drive him just a little bit wild as payback. She liked the idea of getting him hot and bothered and then making him wait. When he pushed her back to the wall, she shoved him away and danced away with a laugh. 

“Fucking tease,” he muttered. 

“That was for last night,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Goodbye, Jon.”

“When can I expect you?” he called after her. 

“I’ll text you,” she called back and then turned the corner and quickened her pace until she got to the door. She hurried inside and pressed her back against the door. Safe. She was safe. 

When she got back up to her office, she found he’d already sent her a message: _No later than 6_. 

She shoved her phone in a desk drawer in a huff and started to think about how she had to call Jaime now and let him know she’d be home late from “work”.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thank you @Israfel00

Jon bought Sansa a comforter. A nice girly comforter that was fluffy, soft green, and had red roses on it. It screamed Sansa to him when he saw it and once he got the image of seeing her lying naked on it with a smile just for him on her gorgeous face, he couldn’t let go of it. He didn’t care that it was a tad expensive. 

He also got a couple citrus-scented candles and some high-end shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Even a package of razors, shaving cream, and deodorant. His message, he hoped, would be clear: he wanted her with him. Period. End of story. 

Plus, he wanted something nice for her while she was with him. Something that made her feel comfortable even if she was staying in a dump with him. But he’d figure it out. He’d do what she wanted, grudgingly, and do what he had to do to get a job and get them into someplace better. 

But he wasn’t going to be so drastic in changing his fucking name like she had been. It angered him to think about it how she didn’t even leave a trace of who she was in that name she’d chosen. Alayne Stone. What the fuck was that? If he changed his name, he’d keep at least his first name, and keep some trace of him there even if he wasn’t exactly sure who Jon Stark was in this world. 

_This world,_ he thought with a little laugh. As though it wasn’t his, too. In actuality though, it didn’t feel like he was part of it. He had been in a cell for so long, shut away from everyone. The only one who would visit him was Uncle Benjen. Those visits were hard though. Uncle Benjen wouldn’t talk too much about Sansa. He lumped her in with Robb and Arya and said they were all “doing fine”. And when Jon would press for more information, Uncle Benjen would change the topic. 

Their visits ended up being a bit inhibited when it came to conversation. Yet Jon appreciated them nonetheless. He never got all what he wanted out of his uncle’s visits, but he at least had Uncle Benjen’s forgiveness and support. He’d never liked Petyr either, and he believed fully that Jon had done what he did to protect his siblings. That Catelyn had been caught in the crossfire…

Well, she shouldn’t have run into a burning house to save the creep. That was what Jon thought at least. 

Perhaps it was cold to think, and especially about one’s mother, but she hadn’t been particularly warm to him and Sansa - especially when Petyr came into their lives. That Sansa held her up, still, to some kind of pedestal, or as someone she still had to please on some level despite how Catelyn had done nothing to protect her, killed him. 

Catelyn didn’t deserve Sansa’s loyalty. When he thought of what would have happened once Petyr had sent him away, of the harm that the pedo would have done to his sisters...and how Catelyn would have done nothing to protect them, well it made Jon’s blood boil. 

After setting out the stuff he’d gotten Sansa, including spreading out the comforter he’d gotten for her on the bed, Jon checked his watch. 

He lifted his head without even seeing the time. She was there. He could feel her close. He told himself to calm down despite how he wanted to head outside and greet her. He wanted to lift her up into his arms the way he’d done the day before and carry her into the room. He wanted her close and he wanted her close _now_. 

Sansa didn’t cut the engine right away. Instead she sat with her car still running and staring past the parking lot into the busy lot of a garage and convenience store next door. She was still reeling from the conversation she’d just had with Jaime about staying late. 

He’d wanted them to talk. 

“I know there has been a distance between us since you told me about your brother,” he’d said. “I’m willing to take part of the blame for that.”

Sansa had shaken her head despite the fact that he couldn’t see her. “No, no, Jaime...I should have told you about it and I didn’t.”

“Well, that’s the part of the blame I’m willing to fob off of on you,” he’d said with a nervous laugh. 

Sansa had let out a laugh, too. Not because she wanted to, but because it was one of those moments where she felt it was expected of her to do so. She found nothing funny about this situation at all, and having Jaime actually fucking apologize for the distance between them broke her heart. 

She took her hand off the shift and wrapped her hands around the steering wheel. She wanted to leave. She wanted to stay. She wanted to want to leave enough to actually do it. She wished she was stronger, but Jon was her weakness and he always would be. 

She felt him calling to her. She felt his yearning and his need and it made her blood thrum with something primal and instinctual that she couldn’t contain. It was the thrum she always felt when they were together, or when he tugged on their bond…

She shut her eyes and felt his impatience and heard his voice: _What the fuck are you waiting for?_.

She wondered if it was possible to get him away from the hotel. Away from the bed. Then she thought of that afternoon and how he’d nearly taken her against the wall at the museum and thought - well, maybe not. This time she laughed. An accepting your fate kind of laugh. 

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise and she turned her head to look up in the direction of his room and there he was. Watching her. His hands gripped the railing as though he was seconds away from leaping over it. 

She cut the engine and undid her belt. She couldn’t stop herself from stepping out of her car. It felt like a possession, this thing inside her that drove her to Jon like this. Surely it wasn’t her making her way up the stairs to Jon. It was someone else. Another Sansa. A different Sansa. The Sansa with the new life and the boyfriend and the job - this wasn’t her. That Sansa didn’t fornicate with her brother. She wasn’t even Sansa. She was Alayne Stone. 

“About time,” he drawled. “I almost thought I was going to have to go down and get you.”

She didn’t say a word. She didn’t know what even to say. 

He took her hand. “Come on,” he said gently and pulled her with him into his room. 

He turned on the big light over the bed and thought that perhaps thinking of it as the “big light” was a bit too generous. Her eyes found the bed and her brows furrowed when she saw the flowered comforter on top. Where had that come from?

“Go to the bathroom,” he said softly. “Look on the counter.”

“Why?” she asked, instantly suspicious. 

He rolled his eyes. “Would you just do it and stop asking questions?”

“I asked one!”

“Just look in the bathroom! Jesus! You’re looking at me like you expect a dead body in there.”

 _I kind of do,_ she thought uncharitably. She would almost be worried for Jaime had she not just talked to him. 

Without last skeptical glance at him, Sansa made her way to the bathroom and when she flicked on the light inside, she looked at the counter. 

Deodorant. Shampoo and conditioner - _expensive_ shampoo and conditioner. Shaving cream, razors, and some floral scented body wash (she hated floral body wash). 

She didn’t know what to make of this. Part of her actually swooned at the idea of him buying all this stuff and thinking of her while doing it. This was the Jon she remembered. The other part of her now felt as though she needed a shower after seeing all this. And hey, she had toiletries now! Nothing said romance like here, let me help you cheat on your boyfriend by being able to take a shower here after we have sex. 

“Sansa,” he said softly. 

She turned and found two candles lit on the desk, and the “big light” even dimmer than before. Now her mind wandered to whether not the lights had already been dimmed somewhat when she’d stepped inside - 

“Well?” he asked, cutting into her thoughts. “What do you think?”

She didn’t know how to respond. Thank you and please stop? Why did you do this? What does it mean? 

But she knew what it meant. The message was loud and clear: he wanted her with him. 

He pointed to the comforter. “Do you like it?”

“Why did you get all this?” she whispered. A stupid question for a stupid girl. 

He pushed away from the desk and slowly made his way to her. She was prey, that’s how he stalked her. He stopped when they were mere inches from each other and tugged on a strand of her hair gently. “I wanted to make you comfortable until I could find some place better for us.”

He swooped in and kissed her, hard at first and then gentler - almost sweet. He hummed, pulled back and looked at her. Now he looked smug and honestly, he deserved to be. She swayed into him and he kissed her again, deeper this time. 

A knock on the door caused her to jump and Jon swore. “Go away,” he shouted. 

Another knock. 

Jon swore again and pointed at her. “Don’t move.”

Her brows rose. Where was she going to go?

He marched over to the door and yanked it open. “What?” he growled. 

“Whoa, man, chill,” said a man’’s voice on the other side of the door. He laughed, comepletely missing the tension in Jon’s body. “Was just wondering if you wanted to smoke again with me and Debbie.”

Somehow, Sansa didn’t think he meant cigarettes. She threw up her hands and planted them on her hips: the universal sign of _I can’t fucking believe you, you fucking idiot._

“I’m good. I’ve got my woman here.”

 _His **woman**?_ Sansa thought.

“Damn, man, you have a girl? Debbie’s gonna be bummed. She’s really into you!”

 _Oh, is that so?_ Sansa thought jealously and then rolled her eyes at herself. 

“She can come too,” The Dude (that’s what Sansa was going to call him in her head now) said. “You know, if she’s cool.”

“No, we want to be alone,” Jon said tersely. 

The Dude laughed. “Roger that. Well, invite’s open for whenever.”

“Yup, thanks,” Jon said and essentially shut the door on The Dude’s face. 

He turned back to Sansa and she didn’t even wait. “You’re a fucking idiot,” she hissed. 

His eyes narrowed. “Now what the fuck did I do?”

“Smoking weed? That’s what that was all about, right?”

“Oh, calm your tits--”

“What if you go for an interview somewhere and they want you to do a test?” she demanded. 

“You know they make kits for that sort of thing now, right?”

She threw her hands up. “I give up.” She started for the door, giving him a wide berth - 

But it wasn’t as though Jon was going to let her go that easy. 

He grabbed her and snatched her against him so fast she almost got whiplash. “You’re not going anywhere,” he growled. 

“Do you even want a better life for yourself?” she asked. 

His nostrils flared. “What do you know about it, Sansa? You don’t even know what I did while I was on probation.”

“It’s not like you gave me much of an opportunity to talk to you,” she spat. “I asked you about prison and you took my head off.”

“Because I don’t want to talk about that hell hole!”

“How am I supposed to learn about you now if you won’t share with me?”

“You could have known everything. So don’t come crying to me now how you missed out.”

She hated that she welled up in tears.

“I don’t want your tears,” he said roughly. “Just stop it.”

But she didn’t. Instead, she let the guilt swell and rise inside her. Up, up, up it went and then she let it flow out of her and towards him with all she had. 

“Stop it! Damn you!” he shouted and placed his hand over his heart. His own eyes welled up in tears. 

He walked away from her, breathing heavy. 

Silence fell. 

“Jon,” she said gently and stuffed it all down again. She was good at that. “Why don’t you tell me what you did for work while on probation?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No flashback this chapter, but that doesn't mean there isn't more coming.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, israfel00!

Sansa sat down upon the bed, knowing perhaps that wasn’t the best place to sit. So, then, she stood and kicked off her heels and slid down to the floor instead. She kept her legs bent and to the side and looked up at Jon’s back. He turned and looked surprised to find her on the floor. 

“What are you doing on the floor?” he asked harshly. 

She leaned over and patted the spot in front of her with her hand. She tried to send him an encouraging smile and hoped she’d succeeded. “Have a seat. Talk to me.”

He looked hesitant, but finally he sat facing her, crossing his legs. 

“Just like when we were kids,” she said. “All we need is a checker board.”

“And Arya to come along and upend the board on us.”

Sansa laughed softly. This was progress. 

“It was kind of easy to play when I knew what you were going to do before you did it.”

“I was never all that great of keeping that from you.”

“You never kept anything from me,” he said softly. 

“And if I tried you knew that, too.”

Silence fell, and then Jon opened his mouth and Sansa knew before he could even say it that he was going to ask her how she managed to block him. She didn’t want to get into that yet, so she cut him off with, “Tell me what you did after prison.”

“I stayed in a halfway house until I saved enough money to move out in a place of my own.”

“What did you do for work?”

“I worked two jobs. At night I stocked shelves in a grocery store. In the daytime I worked for shipping and receiving at a department store.”

“When did you have time to sleep?” Sansa asked, her eyes widening in disbelief. Not that she doubted he was a workhorse, but that he’d taken on so much. 

Jon shrugged. “I had some time between jobs. I was used to not sleeping a lot. You don’t really get a lot of sleep in prison...you learn how to sleep very light just in case you need to be up and ready.”

Sansa didn’t want to think about what he needed to be “ready” for. She clenched her jaw so she wouldn’t start crying again. Her heart hurt when he referenced prison. When she thought of all the horrible things he must have experienced there she wanted to just hold him tight. Not that he’d let her. He’d let her fuck him, but probably not hold him. 

So very different than how it was when they were teenagers…

“Did you make any friends?” she asked. 

“Where? In prison or while out of prison?”

“Both.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call them friends - the people I hung around in prison. There are no real friends there. You more or less make...alliances. You agree to have their back so that they’ll have yours.”

“There had to be some kind of camaraderie? I mean, you’re all in there…”

He shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but...but it’s not like I want to see any of them now that I’m out. And after prison? No. I talked to people at work, but I didn’t really do much with them outside of work. I preferred being alone.”

He’d always preferred being with her or alone, but he’d had friends growing up. 

“I did what I was supposed to do. I made my probation officer happy and stayed out of trouble. And I put money away. I couldn’t collect on Mom’s inheritance after what I did, and Dad’s isn’t available to us until we’re thirty-five--”

“ ‘Should anything happen to me, I want you all to have careers and work hard. I don’t want a bunch of loafers’,” Sansa said in an imitation of their father. 

Jon smiled, a real genuine smile. “He warned us, didn’t he? He wasn’t kidding.” His smile fell and now he looked sad. “I miss him.”

“Me too,” Sansa murmured. 

“How did you do it, Sansa? How did you block me?” He didn’t sound angry, surprisingly. Instead, he sounded almost defeated. 

“I saw a psychic. She taught me how.”

He gaped at her. “A psychic? You saw a bloody _psychic_?”

“I just...walked into her shop one day and...asked. I just asked. I thought of everyone she might understand and be able to help me.”

“Help you,” he spat. “Were you the one in an institution? Were you the one in prison?"

“You don’t get it. You don’t get how everything you felt, I felt. And I could do nothing for you, Jon. I couldn’t help you in any way, I could just feel it all. I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t _functioning_. I was a ghost. Uncle Benjen was worried about me. My teachers were worried about me. I was failing my classes, grieving for Mom--”

“She didn’t deserve your tears, Sansa,” he sneered. “She left you to Baelish. Handed you on a silver fucking platter to him when she said you were lying about what he’d done--”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t grieve the fact that I lost my mother, Jon.” She wiped at her eyes. The tears were coming. “Or the fact that I never had the relationship with her that I’d wanted to have. I was fifteen - what did you expect of me?”

“You want to blame your younger self for being such a cunt? Fine. What about your older self, huh? All that time shutting me out - moving--”

“Don’t call me a cunt,” she snapped. She climbed to her feet and Jon followed suit. “You can’t go five fucking minutes without being an asshole, can you?”

“Don’t call me an asshole,” he said, mimicking her voice. 

“Fuck you,” she hissed as she slipped her heels on. “I’m done. I’ve come over. You saw me. Now I’m going.”

She stated for the door, and heard Jon coming after her. She rushed to the door, but to no avail. He had his palm and foot against it just as she put her hand on the knob. He pressed himself against her back. “I’m not done with you,” he said sotto voce in her ear. 

She turned and faced him. Pushed him. He stumbled back and glared at her. “Sansa,” he growled warningly. 

“I’m not fucking you. I’m not your whore. You can’t just beckon me here when you want and expect me to just let you have a go at me.”

“Why not? You let me fuck you yesterday.” He gestured behind him. “I got you stuff to bathe with, Sansa.”

“I have stuff to bathe with at home, too,” she snapped. She knew she went for the jugular with that one, but she was already over feeling like his punching bag. Two steps forward and a dozen steps back. 

She felt his hurt like a slap in the face and it took her breath away. Had he meant to share that with her? His expression was furious. He gave nothing away there. 

“You belong to me, and you belong _with_ me,” he seethed. 

“Maybe I don’t,” she said. “Maybe we don’t belong to each other like we used to.” She was playing with fire and she knew it, but if she could just get at some kind of emotion - like more of that hurt that she felt - get right to the heart of him and not this stone cold facade…

On the other hand, hearing the words out loud...thinking of Jaime and her life… was there some truth to them?

Jon knew it was cliche, but he really did feel as though she’d reached into his chest and yanked out his heart. She was feeding on it, too. Sucking him completely dry. 

“You’re too angry with me for blocking you. You don’t want to share anything with me now - maybe it’s too big for us to overcome. Maybe we’re holding onto something that we felt when we were kids, but it won’t work now, not with all that happened between us.”

“What are you saying then? You leave here and never see me again? We go our separate ways and that’s it? What about our connection? We still have that, Sansa.”

“I can just block you again. I can teach you how to block me if you want.”

“ _No_ ,” he said, and it came from his gut. This overwhelming emotion - loss, fear, the feeling that he’d be alone again, in that dark place without her, without hope, without a lifesaver. 

He swallowed back the lump in his throat. 

He’d learned to cope, but just barely. It was like learning to use one arm after you’d lost the other. Knowing that something was supposed to be there, but wasn’t. He could no sooner forget Sansa and all they’d shared and what he felt than he could forget how to breathe. 

She was with him always. And he knew that he was with her. 

“Do you enjoy hurting me?” he asked, his voice thick with all this...crap he felt. God, he hated it. 

She looked at him, bewildered. “No, I don’t. But you seem to enjoy hurting me. You don’t make love to me, you fuck me like I’m your whore.”

“You got off on it,” he said defensively. 

“Yeah, you’re right, I did. But I don’t want it like that all the time, Jon. You’re not even seeing me...you’re just using me to fulfill a need and punishing me while you do it.”

“I bet Jaime is all nice and gentle, isn’t he?” he sneered. Why why why was he asking such a thing?! Did he _want_ to torture himself? He held up his hands to stop her in case she thought of answering. He couldn’t bear the fucking idea of someone else’s hands on her, touching her the way he used to touch her. Loving her the way --

He looked at her knees. “My need is you. Not just sex. You know that. You know it because you have the same need.”

There were tears in her voice when she said, “Maybe it’s a need that will go away.”

His head snapped up. “Did it ever?”

She looked pained when she whispered, “No.”

He swallowed again; he did not want to cry though he felt as though he just might. Instead, he gathered his courage and moved toward her. She watched him warily. When he was standing in front of her, he reached up and fingered a strand of her hair. “You’re so beautiful, you know that? My Sansa, all grown up. You were lovely then, and you’re lovely now.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

He cupped the side of her face and looked at her, into her eyes. A man could get lost in those eyes. He always had. He moved closer, his breathing heavier. He was afraid of what she’d do if he took that step. He was afraid of what would become of him if he did, too. 

But either he took the risk or he lost her and he couldn’t bear that. 

So, he kissed her. Gently. Lovingly. Tenderly. Just the way he used to.

She moaned and he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her even closer. He loved her. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but he was afraid. She wanted him to trust her, but he didn’t. How could he when she spoke of leaving him? Of severing those ties again?

Her breathing was ragged when she broke the kiss and looked at him. She nodded and then kissed him. 

He had to have her now. And he hoped she let him. When he slipped his hands under her blouse, she shivered. He kept his hands there on her sides, not moving, waiting for the okay. 

She moved restlessly against him and he pushed her blouse up. She lifted her arms and he pulled it off over her head and arms and threw it to the floor. 

After that, clothes were stripped, pulled, and tossed to the floor, but there was no rush. Not like yesterday. He felt that same driving need, as strong and as potent as he had felt it yesterday, but he forced himself to slow down. To caress her and kiss her gently. At one point they even butted heads when they both tried to get rid of his boxers and after wincing and rubbing their respective heads, they giggled in the gloom of the room. 

It reminded Jon of their many fumbles when they were teenagers making love and were all gangly arms and legs. 

There was nothing gangly about the woman in front of him now. There was nothing gangly about him either, for that matter.   
When they were finally naked, Jon lifted Sansa up in his arms and she wound her legs around his waist. He carried her to the bed, and he tried not to purr as she toyed with his hair at the back of his neck. 

The words he wanted to say to her were burning inside him, words she probably would love to hear. They were right there, right on the tip of his tongue, ready to fly out and so he clenched his jaw to keep them inside his mouth where they belonged. 

For now. 

So much was uncertain. 

He took her slowly, keeping himself in check. The women he’d been with when he’d gotten out of prison had been quick fucks. He’d thrown them out as soon as his need was satiated, and he was aware that they were revenge fucks. He wanted to get back at Sansa, and fucking other women was how he did it. So, he’d gotten used to fucking hard and rough. She wasn’t wrong; in a sense he had been punishing her. He punished her through them, and then he punished her with his body. 

Once upon a time such a thing was utterly abhorrent to him. Hurt Sansa? Never. 

He buried his face in her neck so she wouldn’t see how much it pained him that he had in fact hurt her. 

Making love to her like this, feeling her skin against his, her breath in his ear, it felt like before. But better. Better because they both knew what they were doing now. They had the bodies of adults, and he marveled at hers. Her long limbs, how soft her skin was, how plump her breasts were, how perfect her ass was. And her hair, Gods, he’d always loved her hair! 

Her hand down his back caused him to shiver. Then over his ass it went and she pushed him into her. 

“Jon,” she whispered. 

He moved faster. Just a little bit harder. Her legs spread even wider. 

“Let me see you,” she murmured. 

He lifted, placing one hand by her head and knelt between her legs. She lifted her hips and he gripped one side with his free hand. He felt sweat break out on his forehead. He wanted to just pound into her and seek his release, but he held back, held back from the roughness he was so accustomed to. 

When her hand slipped down between them and she started to play with her clit, his body took over, unable to be denied. “God, look at you,” he muttered. “Touching yourself. Oh, fuck, Sansa, I’m gonna cum soon… I need you to cum, baby--”

She let go, a keening cry of ecstasy filling the room. Her back arched, her eyes fluttered shut. He was right behind her, holding himself still as deep inside her as he could get, and then came long and hard. 

She pushed him off to the bed at her side and she slid into his arms, cuddled right into him the way she used to and nuzzled at his chest. 

He swore he heard her say, “I love you” just before he dozed off. 

But that might have been wishful thinking.


	15. Chapter 15

_Sansa ran up the steps and into the house. She pulled her ear buds from her ears as she went directly to the cabinet to get a glass of water. She stretched to reach the tall glass on the second shelf when she felt a hand on her hip._

_She jumped and a deep voice in her ear said, “Easy there. I got it.”_

_She stiffened as Petyr pressed himself against her as he reached for the glass and grabbed it for her. He set it down on the counter. “There you go,” he said in her ear._

_Sansa cleared her throat. “Thank you.”_

_Petyr didn’t move away and Sansa didn’t know how to get him to move. She felt trapped. The edge of the counter was digging into her from the press of his body against hers. “Did you have a good run?” he asked._

_She nodded._

_He stepped back finally, and Sansa gulped in air.  
With shaking hands she poured herself a glass of water and then turned to leave. Petry stood there, watching her, grinning that wormy grin at her. _

_“You’re developing quite well,” he said._

_Sansa felt the air leave the room again. Had he just said -- ?_

_His gaze dropped to her breasts, and then he licked his lips. “A-cup now? Or B?”_

_Sansa couldn’t form words. All she could do was stand there, her mind reeling, the sound of blood rushing in her ears. She felt as though she wasn’t even in her body._

_“Petyr will you help me with this math problem?” Arya called out._

_Petyr licked his lips as he looked Sansa over one more time and then sauntered away._

_Sansa all but tossed the glass in the sink and then rushed outside and promptly threw up in the grass._

**********

Sansa wasn’t sure what made her think she could leave Jon’s bed without him waking. He woke as soon as she rolled away from him and reached for her. 

“Where you goin’?” he mumbled sleepily. 

She considered lying and telling him she was just going to the bathroom. She could hide out in there for a while until he fell back to sleep and then she could just sneak out. But she knew she wouldn’t get very far without him waking up and coming after her. And she didn’t want to trick him either. 

She turned to face him as he lay on his side in the bed, his eyes half mast, brow furrowed, and curls flopping across his forehead. She reached out with a smile and flopped those curls back against his head. 

“You’re leaving,” he said. 

He looked sad. Defeated. She was surprised he was showing it to her. She felt hope surge through her. 

“I have to,” she said softly. 

“You don’t _have_ to,” he protested as he rolled onto his back. The sheet fell down around his waist and Sansa’s gaze ran over his torso. He was so incredibly built. She couldn’t get over it. 

“Jaime will send out a search party.”

“Don’t say his name while you’re still in bed with me.”

She felt his jealousy like a whip. “Ok,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

He pursed his lips together and though he didn’t respond to her, she knew every rebuttal he could possibly have: _If you’re so sorry then why are you leaving? If you were really sorry you would stay with me. Why are you going to be with him? I’m here now._

“Do you love him?” he asked, catching her by surprise. 

Odd that question should throw her considering it was all she had been able to think about as of late - how she loved Jaime and didn’t want to hurt him. How she loved him and thought perhaps he was her future after all. 

But she still found herself sorting through her jumbled emotions. There was Jon and brother and connection and so much of herself wrapped up in him and part of him. Then there was Jaime and security and normalcy and the promise of being cared for and being loved and taken care of. 

Jon wasn’t stable - not even his moods were. He was set at angry and passionate with little room for much else. 

Tonight though….tonight he had listened to her and made love to her. 

And, she wondered cynically how much of that was to secure her capitulation. She had felt his love though...he had _let_ her feel it. 

“My...feelings are complicated,” she said finally. 

“What a bullshit non-answer,” he muttered and rolled so that his back was to her. “Go. I won’t stop you.”

Feeling wretched, Sansa dressed in the quiet and the gloom. She felt dirty and wrong and it wasn’t Jon’s fault.

It was hers. 

Once, she had believed that for them, their love and their bond would conquer everything. Jon had believed that, too. At one point in time, he’d even believed in their mother. 

When Petry had started his game, Jon had been so convinced that their mother would believe her when Sansa told Catelyn that Petyr had said and done things that made her uncomfortable. _“Mom loves us even though she doesn’t understand us,” Jon had told her. “If you go to her and tell her what Petyr said and did, she’ll believe you and kick him out of our lives. She’ll believe you. She has to. You’re her blood and she loves you. Dad always said blood was thicker than water. Petyr is water, Sansa.”_ r

The love a mother was supposed to have for a daughter hadn’t conquered all. 

The love she and Jon had shared had ended up separating them. 

She and Jon shared blood and thoughts and feelings and there was so much between them, so much pain and hurt and loss and anger and betrayal and was it really thick enough to get them through all that? 

Sansa managed to keep herself composed as she left. It wasn’t until she was in the car and driving to Jaime that she let out the sob that had been pushing at the back of her throat. She didn’t allow herself to cry for long though; Jaime would worry and wonder. 

She was tired and in need of a shower and dinner by the time she made it to the house. She entered the house and took off her shoes by the door, and then tossed her keys in her purse and put her purse down on the table near the door. She came around the corner to the kitchen and found a woman staring at her from behind the island. 

The woman had sandy blond hair cut short to her shoulders, green eyes, and was rather beautiful. She also looked vaguely familiar to Sansa. It was niggling at the back of her head - she’d seen this woman before. 

“You must be Alayne,” the woman said and thrust her hand forward. Sansa took it, still trying to catch up as to what was going on. “I’m Cersei, Jaime’s sister.”

“Ah, Alayne. You’re home.”

Sansa looked over her shoulder and found Jaime coming in from the living room. He was already in his lounging pants and a t-shirt, and looked as though he’d just had a shower. 

Sansa let Cersei’s hand go and looked over at him. He smiled at her, which made her feel worse, and kissed her cheek. “Hi,” he said warmly. 

“Hi,” she said and rolled her eyes towards Cersei, hoping he got the hint that she wanted an explanation. 

“So you’ve met my sister,” he said, his quick nod telling her he got the hint. 

Sansa smiled at the other woman who was watching her closely. She had the sense of being measured up. _Don’t waste your time,_ she thought. _I’m not worthy of your brother, I’m already aware._ “I did.”

“You must be tired,” Jaime said. “Why don’t you head on up and get changed and I’ll bring dinner up to you?”

She melted. Of course he would save her a plate for dinner. She kissed him quickly. “Okay,” she murmured. She smiled at Cersei. “Excuse me.”

Cersei just nodded. 

Sansa headed toward the living room and then up to the their bedroom. She was dragging her feet, feeling the weight of the day, of Jon, and her secrets, and now having a guest in her home she hadn’t anticipated. 

Jaime had left King’s Landing and cut all ties to his family except for his brother Tyrion, so to have Cersei show up was a complete surprise. What could have brought her here? Had Jaime known? No. He would have told her. That wasn’t something he would have kept from her. She laughed to herself bitterly and thought, _He’s not me after all._

Once in the bedroom, she sat down on the bed and wondered what it was like for Jaime to see his sister again. She kicked off her shoes just as Jaime came in the room with a tray of food. He set it down on the bed and stayed standing, arms folded across his chest. “I’m sure you have questions.”

“A few.” She stood and put her hand on his arm. “First - are you okay?”

His arms dropped and he drew her to him and engulfed her in an embrace, burying his face in her neck. 

Sansa wrapped her arms around him, and then one hand went to the back of his head, carding through his hair. His hair that was the same color as Cersei’s. 

“It was a shock to see her,” he said, resting his chin on her shoulder now. “She didn’t even call. Just showed up at our door.”

“Is _she_ okay? Did something happen?” 

Jaime pulled back and looked down at her, running a hand through his hair. “She said that she and Robert got into a big fight and he hit her.”

Sansa’s eyes widened. “Oh my God!”

“She left. Our father took the kids, and she came here to get away from Robert. She said she was afraid if she took the kids, Robert would have her on kidnapping charges.”

Part of Sansa got it, and yet the other part wondered at her leaving her kids behind like that. “Has he ever done anything like that to her before?”

“She says he’s gotten a little rough with her - punching the wall, throwing things, but never hit her before. It scared her.”

“What about the kids?”

“She said he’s never laid a hand on them. He doesn’t really pay much attention to them.”

“So they are safe?”

“Robert won’t do anything to defy my father.”

Sansa sat back down on the bed. “So she’s staying here for a while I take it?”

He looked pained. “Yeah. Not for long I don’t think...I hope not.” He stared past her out the window and sighed, rubbing absently at the back of his neck. 

“Jaime?”

“Hmmm?” He kept staring out the window.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He swallowed. 

She stood and was about to wrap him back up in her arms when Cersei called for him. “Jaime! Tommen wants to say hi!”

Jaime sighed heavily and attempted a smile. “I told you. Family is hard.”

And then he left leaving Sansa wondering if things just got more complicated with Cersei’s arrival.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @mynameisnoneya for totes helping to inspire me to finish this chapter

It was decided that Jaime would take the next couple days off of work to entertain Cersei. He wasn’t happy about it, Sansa could tell, and he begged her to take time off too, but her exhibit was showing in two weeks and she didn’t have the time. 

Sansa was worried for Jaime’s sake. He didn’t want his sister there, but he wasn’t about to send her away either, and she wondered at the dynamic between the two. She was struck by how little she knew about his relationship with his family. She supposed because she never wanted to talk about her own, it was easy for her to understand how he might not want to talk about his. 

Family was a topic best left alone, but she was beginning to see with their discord over her not telling him about Jon, and now with Cersei’s arrival and his patent statement of “family is hard”, that perhaps it was best to have asked _some_ questions - if only to know how to navigate around the woman cohabitating with them.

Sansa didn’t want to say she didn’t like Cersei, but after three days of the woman, Sansa wasn’t impressed. Partly, it was the way the other woman never really spoke to her. On Cersei’s first morning, Sansa had sat with her at the kitchen table munching on her bagel and yogurt and sipping her coffee, while Jaime had started to make a big breakfast for himself and his sister. 

“Do you remember when we were kids and Dad had that tree house built for us?” Cersei had asked him that morning, a wistful smile on her face. 

Jaime had nodded as he cracked eggs into a bowl. 

“We would spend hours in there,” Cersei had continued, looking almost dreamy. 

Jaime had all but attacked the eggs to scramble them at that point. 

“What did you guys do in there?” Sansa had asked, trying to become part of their conversation in some way. 

“Oh, you know,” Cersei had said, glancing longingly at Jaime. “The usual stuff kids do.”

Sansa imagined maybe reading the way she and Jon would. Coloring. Playing with his action figures and her dolls. Just generally trying to be close to each other. 

Jaime had seemed to shut down, and Cersei started to go on about her kids, but never to Sansa. Only to Jaime. And Jaime barely looked at her while he made their breakfast. 

Sansa didn’t know what to do for him, and it wasn’t as though she could do much with Cersei _right there_ , so she’d finished up her breakfast and coffee and got ready for work. 

Then there were the backhanded comments regarding the decor of their home that Cersei would sometimes make. She hadn’t liked the colorful drapes in their living room. She wasn’t a big fan of the artwork on the walls. Her comments were “How bold” or “That’s a choice.”

It wasn’t outright, but it was enough to drive Sansa batty.

And, Cersei liked to name drop. She really preferred this designer or that one, and the woman who did her home had also decorated some of the most famous celebrities homes, too. When Sansa asked whose, Cersei grew vague. 

Later, Jaime told her that her decorator had decorated the home of a game show host. Sansa felt better after that. 

Cersei was a snob, plain and simple. 

Jaime curled up around her in bed every night, holding onto her as though she was a lifesaver and he was out to sea. She tried not to think about the fact that she was by no means suited to be anyone’s lifesaver. 

She tried her best to be there for Jaime even though he seemed to have shut down.

Yeah. Family was _great_.

She wasn’t all that surprised when Brienne called to let her know that Jon was there to see her. She had felt him coming a mile away. Or rather, not even a mile.

She’d felt him for days. His frustration at being put off and denied her company and attention. She’d heard him more than once in her head telling her to figure her shit out soon and see him. It was a bit...disconcerting that she could hear him so clearly. That hadn’t happened often when they were kids and she wondered if this was due to their being older or if it was some weird byproduct of having blocked him for so long. Had their connection somehow blown up even wider once she let him back in?

Despite knowing Jon would probably create even more problems for her, she told Brienne to send him up. She...well, she’d missed him. 

“Shall I walk him up?” Brienne asked. 

“That would be great, thanks Brienne.” And, so Jon wouldn’t get any ideas if he saw her doing it, Sansa went to the two long windows that looked out into hall and other offices, Sansa closed the blinds. 

Five minutes later and in walked Jon, smirking at Brienne who was behind him and looked anything but amused. Oh boy. 

“Thank you for your hospitality, Brienne,” Jon said. “You are a font of information.”

Brienne stayed standing in the doorway. She ignored Jon, nodded at Sansa, sent a small glare Jon’s way, and then closed the door. Sansa arched a brow at him. 

He grinned and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “She really likes me. She just hides it well.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest as she leaned against the front of her desk. It was a protective gesture and she knew it. Being this close to him was messing her up and this gave her the illusion of space. 

Jon wasn’t having it though. Dressed in black jeans, a black t-shirt and a black jean jacket, he looked like a ruffian, but a rather hot one. He planted himself in front of her, made her meet his gaze by staring her down, and then reaching out and gently pulling her to him. 

“Jon,” she protested lighty. 

“Don’t,” he murmured and kissed her. He moaned and Sansa felt any small resolve she had melting. She gripped his jacket at his sides and leaned into him as he deepened the kiss. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered. “Did you miss me?”

She hadn’t realized how much she had until he was there. And she was shocked that he would admit that to her. She nodded. 

“What’s going on with you?” he asked gently, running a hand through her hair. “I could feel your irritation and for once it wasn’t directed at me.”

Sansa shook her head and buried her face in his chest. She didn’t want to tell him about Cersei. He wouldn’t understand and how could she expect him to? He wanted her to leave Jaime and she...didn’t know what she wanted. She just knew that leaving Jaime was not something she was willing to do, and committing to Jon was something she was terrified of doing. She feared she loved them both and what a fucking mess _that_ was. And selfish. So, so seflish. 

“Tell me,” he urged gently. 

This wasn’t like him. He was being so sweet - he was being the Jon she knew from before. It was fucking with her head. If he had come in angry and demanding she could have dealt with that better, and maybe it would have given her an outlet for all this annoyance with her houseguest. But no. He was, so far, being loving and it brought tears of frustration to her eyes. 

She looked up at him. “Jaime’s sister is here for a visit and I hate her,” she said and waited for the explosion. For him to demand she leave Jaime. For him to call Jaime names. For him to blame her for Cersei’s arrival and her subsequent misery somehow. 

Instead, he nodded slowly, staring at a point behind her. His jaw was working; she could see the muscle tensing. 

He looked down at her. “Why do you hate her?”

“She’s a snob. She’s a name dropper and she’s all about labels. She won’t talk to me directly and I don’t know how long she’s staying.”

“She sounds awful.”

“She is.”

“What does he say about it?”

She swallowed. He’d asked. He’d really asked what Jaime thought. “He’s shut down. He doesn’t want her there either, but he can’t send her packing.”

“Why not?” Jon asked, eyes narrowing. “Has he not figured out that she’s upsetting you?”

“I think he’s too consumed with whatever happened between them in the past.”

His brows furrowed and he looked even more engaged now. “What happened to them in the past?”

“From what I understand, they were close at one time and then she changed and became the snob she is now and married this asshole who hit her - which is why she’s here now - and they stopped talking. He has no family here in Lys. He left them all and only stays in regular touch with his brother.”

“I’m getting a clearer picture now why you ended up with him,” he said drily. 

She pushed away from him and went to sit on the couch in the corner of her office. “He’s spent the last three days with her and he’s become so distant.” Except for at night when he held her close. 

Jon studied her and Sansa stared out the window behind her desk. 

“You genuinely care for him,” he said softly. 

She nodded once, almost imperceptibly, and kept right on staring out the window. 

He sucked in a deep breath and when her eyes flickered over to him he had his hands in fists by his sides. And then one hand swiped down his face and he looked sad. He felt sad. And shocked. And scared. She could feel it all. And she didn’t know what to do about any of it. 

“And me?” he asked, his voice cracking. 

“You know how I feel about you.”

“I want to hear you say it.” His voice took on the harshness she’d grown accustomed to. 

She looked straight at him though he was now looking out the window. “I love you. You’re the other half of me.”

He swallowed. “When can I see you alone?”

“Tonight? Tomorrow? I can see--”

“Tonight. I want to show you something.”

She nodded and stood. She wanted to go to him. She didn’t know if she should. There were so many things she wanted to do and none of them seemed right. She hated hurting him - she’d done it so much and for so long. 

Jon strode to the door quickly and that was it, he was gone. 

She felt his absence and his pain like a stake in the heart. 

She wondered if Jon and Jaime would be better off without her.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you @israfel00!

It felt like a knife to the heart. 

It felt like a stab in the back.

Jon was bleeding out everywhere and he didn’t know how to stop it. 

Sansa cared for Jaime. Genuinely cared for the man. He wasn’t passing time guy. He wasn’t a place filler. He wasn’t easily discardable. 

He was a Serious Thing. 

He was in the way. 

He had to figure his shit out fast or he ran the risk of actually losing Sansa. In all the time they’d been apart, in all the time she’d blocked him and left him and changed her name he knew, _knew_ that it wouldn’t be forever. He had always had the comfort of knowing that no one could _ever_ mean as much to her as he did. He knew this because no one would ever mean as much to him as she did. What they had, what they shared… it wasn’t anything he’d ever come across. 

He’d met men in prison who had committed incest with their sisters. He steered clear of the pedophiles and rapists, and asked the ones who claimed it was consensual (and not just said it was to justify their rape. He got really good at sorting those assholes out), and wanted to know _why_. What made them do it? How did they feel? Did they have a bond? What was the connection? 

None could feel what the other was feeling to the same degree as he and Sansa. Only one had a sister that was his fraternal twin like he and Sansa, and they claimed they had a very strong “twin-thing”, but it wasn’t anything like what he had with Sansa. And now it seemed their bond was growing stronger. He saw more when he focused in on her. Saw those images and pictures of what she was seeing clearer. He felt her more. Heard her more. 

If they had none of those abilities, he wondered, would they still feel what they felt for one another? Or would they be normal siblings? Was it just not real then? 

He knew that kids, and especially teenagers, could feel things so acutely. So had they mistaken that connection and that depth to their relationship and made it into something more? Did they just translate all of it into romantic love when it should have just stayed familial?

He’d known at a young age - and no one had planted the seed or had to tell him - that Sansa was his everything. His whole world. He was incomplete without her by his side. It was a thing bone deep, and even deeper still. 

Maybe they were too young to deal with all those feelings. Hers, his, theirs - it was all one. All them together. One complete entity. 

Except in all their time apart Sansa had made room for someone else. 

He couldn’t conceive of it…

But then he’d never really tried had he?

Maybe he owed it to himself to do just that. 

He had been getting a cheap cup of coffee most mornings at the corner coffee shop. It was a hole in the wall place with runny eggs and about four options for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They seemed to specialize in hamburgers and those were actually pretty decent compared to the watered down coffee. 

There was a woman there, Val, who was always flirting with him. Or he guessed that’s what she was doing when she flashed her cherry red smile at him. He hadn’t paid much attention to it, consumed as he was with Sansa, but now he thought of her. Of how she might like it if he asked her out. Of how he might at least try to see what it would be like to go on a date. He’d never been on one before. 

Once, he’d imagined what it would be like to take Sansa out on a date. To pretend that they weren’t brother and sister, but just two regular people who met and liked each other. He’d always known Sansa would love that. She’d gushed about enough romantic movies when she started to get into all that for him to catch on to what sorts of things she’d like. 

And he’d dreamt of giving all that to her. 

But then she’d gone off and found Jaime fucking Lannister and moved in with him and cared for him - he refused, absolutely fucking refused to even think she loved the man because no way in _hell_ would she love that man the way she loved him. It just wasn’t possible. 

But maybe that’s what she liked about it? The same level of intensity wasn’t there. The same need and desire. The same pull and connection. Maybe she...preferred that?

He shook his head; he couldn’t think about that. He’d drive himself mad.

He already had.

So, instead, he peered inside the window of the coffee shop and found Val behind the counter. She caught sight of him and waved with a sultry grin. 

He focused on that grin and that wave and hoped Sansa got it. 

She did. He felt her surprise. Her wariness. 

He then fired off a text before entering the shop: _Change of plans. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to see you._

And then he strolled inside and took a moment to look Val over - big boobs. Blond. Lips that would look good around his cock. He made sure to send all that Sansa’s way so she’d get the message loud and clear. And then went up to the counter and said, “Hey. Free tonight?”

When she smiled wide, he hoped Sansa got that, too. 

She did. He felt it. 

Jealousy. 

He smiled, which Val took as encouragement, though it had nothing to do with her. 

“Sure,” she said. “Where do you want to go?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. What’s good around here?”

While she went on listing places they could go, Jon focused on Sansa and making sure she was privy to everything. He smirked when she started a string of curses in his head. 

_Now you know how it feels,_ he told her. 

_Fuck you,_ she returned venomously. 

“So,” Val said. “Where do you want to go?”

“You pick,” he said. “Pick you up here at eight?”

She beamed at him and nodded. She really was pretty. 

He smiled at her, and walked out and once he was outside, he focused all his energy on shutting down the connection between he and Sansa. When he felt her go he didn’t feel victorious as he thought he might. Instead, he felt a wave of panic spread over him. He wanted her back immediately. 

He was alone again. All alone. He didn’t have Sansa; he didn’t have _anyone_. It was just like when he was in prison and he couldn’t reach her. He felt adrift and lost and just like he did when he was taken away from Sansa the first time. 

He felt beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead, and he broke out in a cold sweat. His heart started to race.

_Shit shit shit._

A panic attack. He hadn’t had one of those in a real long time. He gasped, heaving in gulps of air. He snuck back into the alley between the restaurant and the building next door and leaned his back against the cool stone of the building. He shut his eyes tight and counted backwards from 100. It took a while to calm himself, but even then all wasn’t right. Sansa wasn’t _there_. He needed her _there_. 

Now that he wasn’t in the midst of falling to pieces, he concentrated on opening himself back up to her. 

And found her gone. 

He pushed through the wall, hard as he could and felt her pushing back, trying to block him out. 

“God damn you, Sansa!” he shouted, not caring that people stopped to look his way. They all thought he was crazy and he didn’t care. He was a little after all he’d been through. He didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought, only what Sansa thought. 

“Let me back in, dammit,” he demanded aloud. 

He was sweating with the effort to push back against her. Jesus, he was a regular Professor X, wasn’t he? 

He felt her, a whisper of her, enough to know she was fighting against him just as hard. He gripped his hair in his hand hard, pulling, wanting the pain to somehow calm him down and ground him. 

It worked by degrees. His breath slowly started to return to normal. 

Okay, he reasoned. He’d purposely wanted to make her jealous and upset. He’d purposely wanted to make her think that maybe just _maybe_ he could do without her, too. And that maybe he _would_. After all that, he had to expect some push back. Fucking bitch that she could be sometimes…

So, fuck it. He’d go on the date with Val and attempt to have a good time. If Sansa wanted to act like a little bitch and shut him out for now, he’d find a way back in. He’d take himself to her palatial mansion on the beach and force his way in - into her house and back into her mind by whatever means necessary. 

xxxxxxxxx

Sansa was fuming. Jon was a prick, an asshole, a fucking pain _in her ass_ and she hated him. She absolutely fucking hated him and would hate him forever. 

For a good two hours all she could do was fume about what he’d done. She tried to get some work done and couldn’t - her concentration was shot to hell. She couldn’t think of anything else but those woman’s lips and Jon imagining them around his cock. 

_Fuck. Him_. 

This woman - Val - could have him. Val could take Jon and deal with all his bullshit. Sansa didn’t want any of it anymore. She had Jaime and Jaime was wonderful and sweet and kind and loving and…

She dropped her pen and buried her face in her hands. 

And she wasn’t being fair. 

She had _Jaime_. She’d had him for a while. While Jon was on probation trying to get his life back in order, she’d left Winterfell and created a whole new life. She’d changed her name and made it as difficult as she could for Jon to find her once he got out. She’d kept him at bay and meant to keep on doing it until he found her. Then he came back into her life and she stayed with Jaime while fucking Jon and didn’t make any attempt to stop what she was doing with Jaime _at all_ \--

How did she think he’d feel? How did she _think_ he’d react? He could only put up with her bullshit for so long. 

And it was bullshit. _So_ much bullshit. Shacking up with Jaime, lying to him - for fuck’s sake he still thought her name was Alayne Stone and meanwhile, she was out with Jon whenever she got a chance. 

She loved Jon more than anything or anyone on the planet and she hurt him more than she’d hurt anyone or anything, too. 

She was terrible. Horrible. 

She couldn’t make up her mind but she had to, didn’t she? She couldn’t keep this up. She couldn’t keep lying to Jaime and putting Jon off with vague promises that she’d made some kind of decision. 

As if Jon would ever let her go either. He wouldn’t just walk away from her if she chose Jaime -

Or...maybe he would? Maybe now he would because she had pushed him to that point. And she couldn’t blame him. It sucked. It hurt. Oh _God_ it hurt to think of him with another woman, but…

But she couldn’t be surprised. And she couldn’t be angry - even though she was. But it was hurt and it was jealousy and it was easier to be angry than to admit that she was jealous and hurt. It was easier to be angry than to admit that she had no right to feel any of it. 

She had to tell Jaime the truth. She had to come clean. If she didn’t come clean she would lose them both. She might lose them anyway, but at least she could sleep at night knowing that she’d finally done the right fucking thing. 

She didn’t want to tell him while Cersei was there though, and the other woman had to be going back home soon - fucking hell, Sansa hoped so. 

Tonight when she got home she would ask Jaime when Cersei was leaving and let him know that it had to be soon - and not just for her sanity, but for his. The woman upset Jaime in ways Sansa didn’t understand - perhaps in a shared family history with people who know how to push your buttons way. Jon pushed hers, but it was more the nature of their relationship...with some family stuff for good measure, too. 

Step one - get Cersei good and gone. 

Step two - tell Jaime the truth. 

For the rest of the day, she was able to work better, but only marginally better. Her mind kept drifting to Jon and that woman. She kept imagining him kissing her. Fucking her. 

Was he nervous to go out with her? Did he want to impress her? Did he really like her? Or was he just using her to get back at him? He had gone directly to her apparently so it had to have passed through his mind. 

God, a date. He was going on a date. Something she and Jon had never had and would probably never have. They’d talked about it before, how they would live far away from their family and be able to act like a real couple who could do things like hold hands in public and kiss. Her heart ached remembering how she’d wanted all of that _so bad._ The freedom to be what they were to each other without anyone else to stop them, or give them looks, or make them feel bad for being different. For needing and wanting each other as they did. 

And then her thoughts would drift to Jaime and how in the world she was going to tell him about Jon and the exact nature of her relationship with him. 

She wouldn’t have him in the end. She was going to have to accept that now. Who in their right mind would want to be with a woman who fucked her brother? 

But she had to get it out. She had to let him know that it was her that was broken, not him. He was wonderful and almost too perfect and she did not deserve a man like him. 

He’d bounce back. He might be heartbroken with a side of grossed out, but he’d find someone else. A man like him wouldn’t be alone for long. 

And her? Would she still have Jon? He wanted her but he hated her, too. He had so much anger inside of him and all of it she deserved. 

Alone. She’d be better off alone. 

Depressed, she left work and went home. She was exhausted, the kind of exhausted that went down to her bones. 

When she entered the house and chucked her keys on the bureau in the hall, she found Jaime at the end of it, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. He was looking down. He looked up at her; his jaw clenched. 

Behind him, Cersei came out, creeping as though she didn’t want Jaime to hear her. She looked at Sansa in triumph. 

A chill spread over Sansa. 

“How was your day?” Jaime asked. And then added, “Sansa.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you @israfel00 for your help!
> 
> And thank you @sweetaprilbutterfly for the gorgeous banner! 
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/NqiFXz3)

_Jon looked murderous. His jaw was clenched tight, and his gray eyes were flashing with violence. Sansa looked up at him from the base of their tree and wrapped her arms around her legs which her pulled up to her chest._

_“You have to tell Mom what he said, Sansa,” Jon said for the second time. Or was it the third._

_Sansa shook her head. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t. How could she tell her mother what Petyr had said to her? And was it really that big of a deal? Maybe he just wanted to --_

_No. It was a big deal. It was wrong and it was gross and she could feel her stomach roiling again just thinking about it._

_She’d done something wrong. That was all she could think. She’d done something wrong to make Petyr look at her that way._

_“Sansa,” Jon said._

_“No,” she said firmly._

_“Why the fuck not?” he practically shouted. “What he did was wrong, Sansa! He’s gross -_ he’s a fucking pedophile saying that shit to you. _”_

_Sansa put her hands over her ears and started to cry. “Can you stop yelling at me, please?”_

_His voice softened. “Sansa.”_

_She looked up at him, “Can you just hold me?”_

_He nodded and settled right down next to her. He pulled her in close and she burrowed into him, wrapping her arms around him. He held her tight and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll protect you,” he said. “I promise.”_

********  
Sansa had the sense that she wasn’t actually standing in the house she shared with Jaime, but instead outside, in the water, trying to fight against the waves and stand firm with the shifting sand under her feet.

“Do you have anything to say?” Jaime asked, his green eyes cold in a way she’d only seen when he’d dealt with problem vendors at the restaurant.

“How?” she croaked.

“Me,” Cersei said coming forward until she was standing by Jaime. “I had to find out just who my Jaime had hitched his wagon to.” 

Sansa didn’t miss the “my Jaime” bit. Jaime had literally put an ocean between them to get away from her (and his father), but she still considered Jaime hers? 

“Cersei, shut up and get out of here,” Jaime snapped.

“Seriously?” Cersei said incredulously. “I just helped you, Jaime. You’ve been shacking up with a liar whose brother went to prison for murdering their parents.”

“Petyr Baelish was not my father,” Sansa said.

“Oh, because that’s the thing that matters here,” Cersei said sarcastically.

“Actually, it does so--”

“Cersei!” Jaime shouted. “Go!”

She turned to Jaime. “Don’t be stupid,” she hissed and with one last glare at Sansa, stomped off.

“Sansa,” Jaime said slowly as though he was testing it out on his tongue. “Pretty name. Were you named after anyone?”

“I think some ancestor,” she replied softly. “Jaime--”

“You lied to me. All this time, all these years; you’ve lied to me.”

She nodded. It wasn’t as though she could deny it.

“You’ve been living in my house,” he said and she winced - it was no longer “theirs” apparently - “and sleeping in my bed for _three_ years and _lying_ to me about who you really are.”

“I wanted to put all of it behind me,” she said softly. “I wanted to put that part of my life in the past where it belonged and just be Alayne Stone.”

“Wherever you go, you take your giants with you,” he said. “Know who said that?”

“Mark Twain.”

“What the _fuck_ , Sansa?!” he shouted, causing her to jump. She knew Jaime would never hurt her, but she had never seen him angry at her like this.

“I didn’t want anyone to know. What Jon did – I had to separate myself from it. I didn’t – I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“I’m not just anyone! I’m the guy you live with. The guy you said you loved.”

“I _do_ love you, Jaime! I just didn’t want you to see me differently. Back home…people looked at me differently. I was the sister of a murderer. I was the sister of the murderer who killed my stepfather and my—my mother.” She didn’t want to cry, but she couldn’t help it. Between Jon on a date and _this_.

 _You created it,_ the little voice in her head said. _All of this could have been avoided if you had just told him the truth long ago._

But she’d never planned on Jaime finding out. She’d never really entertained the idea that he could if Jon hadn’t come for her. 

“What was Cersei doing? Did she hire someone to investigate me?” she asked.

He pointed at her. “Look, I’m not exactly fucking happy with her right now, but you don’t you _dare_ make this about her when _you’ve been lying to me!_ ”

“You want the truth?!” Sansa burst out, tired of being shouted at even if she did deserve it. “My father died when I thirteen and my mother married a pedophile who targeted me. My brother, my _twin_ , he was protecting me when he set that fire. It was only meant for Petyr. But then my mother ran in to save him and she died, too. Jon went to prison and it was court ordered that we could not see him. I lied because I wanted to pretend I had a different life. I have a brother and sister I never speak to because it’s too hard and Jon…” No, it was too much right now to tell him about Jon. The _exact nature_ of her and Jon. Definitely not with Cersei in the house. That smug bitch.

“Jon?”

“I didn’t want Jon to find me,” he whispered. But he did. And he’s here. He and Jaime had something in common now at least: they both hated her.

“What did your stepfather do to you?” Jaime asked softly. “Did he hurt you?”

“I just told you he was a pedophile who targeted me. You don’t need the details.” She gestured behind him. “I’m sure Cersei can fill you in on everything. It was all over the news. An internet search will bring it up right quick.”

“Sansa,” he sighed and shook his head. He raked a hand through his hair, mussing it up even more. It was obvious he had been tugging at it the way he did when stressed.. “I don’t know what to do. What to say.”

“You don’t have to say or do anything,” she said, wiping at the tears that fell down her cheeks. “I know I fucked it all up.”

He didn’t say anything. Just stood there looking sad and beaten down.

“I’m going to pack a bag and go somewhere for the night,” she said.

“I think that’s probably best,” he said gently.

For some reason that pissed her off – perhaps it was his tone. He felt sorry for her now she guessed. And somehow that was worse.

She shoved past him and headed up to their bedroom to pack a bag. She pulled out her suitcase from the closet and started throwing things in at random. She wasn’t even sure what she was packing. Her mind was reeling. The truth was out with Jaime and Jon had blocked her and was going out on a date. Her life, the carefully constructed life she’d made for herself, was not crumbling around her - it had crumbled. 

“And the hits just keep on coming,” she muttered.

“You did this to yourself, ya know.”

Sansa whipped her head to the door and found Cersei watching her, still very much smug.

Anger at herself, at Cersei, at Jon, at her mother, Petyr, at Robb and Arya, the sense of helplessness and hopelessness she’d carried for so long because of Petyr came bubbling up to the surface and when she started for Cersei all she knew was that bitch was going down. She’d never punched anyone before, but she remembered Jon teaching her how once. She pulled her arm back and watched Cersei’s eyes widen and then Cersei was on the floor screaming as blood poured out of her nose. Sansa shook out her fist and wished someone had told her how much punching someone hurt.

Jaime was up the stairs in a heartbeat, but he said nothing to Sansa as he helped Cersei up. He dragged her down the stairs with him while she cursed a blue streak at Sansa.

Hurriedly, Sansa zipped up her suitcase and practically ran from the bedroom, down the stairs, and out the door. She hurried, practically running for her car. She needed to be away, far far away.

********

Something was wrong with Sansa. Jon felt it. She must have been distracted when he tried pushing his way through, because he felt her anguish acutely and it nearly drove him to his knees. 

Something had happened and she was upset and he needed to get to her.

She was in her car. She was leaving the mansion. And whatever she was upset about was centered around Jaime. Him too, but also something to do with Jaime and needing to get away from him. 

Jon didn’t care that he was dressed for a date – he’d ironed the one nice pair of black pants and white button down shirt he owned – all he cared about was getting to Sansa.

What had that prick done to her? Had she confronted Jaime about his sister? If so, had he flipped out on her?

“Let me in, damn you!” he shouted as he tried once again to get to her. He could feel that damned wall give way, but then it was up again and he cried out in frustration. Grabbing his keys, Jon stormed out of his hotel room and down to his rented car.

Sansa was going to hate him for this, but he didn’t give a fuck.

It was time to finally meet Jaime fucking Lannister.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you @mynameisnoneya and israfel00 for your help with this chapter! 
> 
> Gorgeous banner by @dena-1984. Thank you, sweetness! It's so beautiful!  
> [](https://imgur.com/jT3Ra5O)

“She punched me and you didn’t even say anything,” Cersei pouted as Jaime handed her a wet washcloth in the bathroom. They were, as Alayne - _Sansa_ \- called them, ‘lavender’ not just plain old purple as Jaime had called them. 

“Why didn’t you defend me?” Cersei complained, sounding nasally as she took the washcloth and dabbed at the blood under her nose. 

“What did you expect me to do?” he asked, jamming his hands in his pockets. He wondered where Alayne - _Sansa_ \- went. Probably to Margaery’s. Maybe a hotel? He hadn’t really thought this one out so well. He should have kicked Cersei out and made _Sansa_ stay. 

“I don’t know,” Cersei said, in that tone that said she did in fact know and thought he was dumb for not knowing. “Throw her out?”

“She was already leaving.” And that was the dumb part on his end. 

“Yell at her?”

“I’m not going to ‘yell at her’ for a punch I’m pretty certain that you instigated. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said. Cersei gaped at him, probably unable to believe that he wasn’t fussing over her. He left the bathroom and headed for the living room. 

Once upon a time he _would have_ fussed over Cersei. But that was a long time ago and though she’d tried her level best to get him back into their old madness together, he wasn’t buying what she was selling. 

Okay, so she did manage to kiss him the first day she arrived, draping herself all over him like a cheap suit and trying to persuade him for a quick go in the bedroom he shared with Alayne - _Sansa, dammit_ \- but he didn’t give in. He’d gotten hard because, well, biology, and though he’d felt some of those old feelings return for her, he knew what it meant to fall under Cersei’s spell: trouble with a capital T. 

She was his twin, and at one point in his young life he had thought she would be the woman he spent his life devoted to. Until her pursuit of money and power and fame became more important than what they had. She had chosen to marry Robert Baratheon because he had all three of those things as the founder of Westeros’s own version of Silicon Valley. She wanted it all and she got it all when she hitched her wagon to his. Including Robert’s infidelity. Though if he knew Cersei - and he did - she was probably not lacking for company. 

She had after all wanted him to wait in the wings and put his life on hold for her until she crooked her finger in his direction and expected him to come running. That, plus the pressures of his father to take over the family business - investment banking, which he hated - put Jaime in the position of being everyone’s favorite puppet. 

He wanted to be a chef. He wanted to own his own restaurant. He wanted to be something other than a dirty Lannister who screwed people out of their money. He also wanted a woman that was loyal to him and only him. 

And, bonus - a woman he wasn’t related to. Someone the complete antithesis of Cersei personality wise would be even better.

And he had found all of that in, not Alayne, but _Sansa_. 

He wanted to marry her for fuck’s sake. He hadn’t thought he’d love anyone the way he loved Cersei and then he’d met Sansa/Alayne and she’d proved him wrong. 

And now...this. 

He sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh and leaned his head back against the top of it. Fuck, he was tired. He just wanted a shower and bed and for Sansa/Alayne to be there and for everything to be all right between them again. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to forgive her,” Cersei said, storming from the bathroom. Her nose was red, her mascara was smudged, though she was hurt, he just wanted her gone. 

“It’s none of your business if I do or not,” he told her. 

“Jaime, what the fuck are you thinking? She’s lied to you, she has a murderer for a brother, she—”

“Shut up, Cersei,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“Excuse me?” she said challengingly, daring him to back down. He wouldn’t. 

“I said shut up.” He sat up and looked at her straight on. “You came here and fucked up my life. Just as you wanted to do, just as you probably planned to do the moment you decided to come here. Well, congratulations. You still have a penchant for destroying everything and everyone in your wake.”

“Jaime--”

“I’m talking,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument. Her eyes went wide and she clamped her mouth shut. “You’re done here, Cersei. You’re the one I should have asked to leave, not Alayne - Sansa - whatever the fuck her name is.” He leaned forward. “So I want you to be clear on this so there are no misunderstandings. I want you gone. Pack up your shit leave. I don’t care if you have to spend the night in the airport. Or two days, or three days - hell, you can stay a whole week for all I care. I want you gone. I don’t want to see you again. I don’t even want a phone call or an email. This is over. It was over then, and it’s over now. I want you out of my life - _again_. Do you understand me?”

Now she looked ready to cry, but knowing Cersei it was probably all an act. 

“Do you understand?” he asked again. 

And there it was. The rage. Her face went as red as her nose and it was almost comical. She jutted a finger in his face. “You’re going to be sorry.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But you won’t be around to find out, will you?”

She stormed off and Jaime went to find his phone to call Sansa/Alayne. He wanted her to come back. He wanted to work this out, more than anything. He had just picked it up from the kitchen counter when there was a knock at the door. 

His brow furrowed. Who the hell was here? Sansa/Alayne? She would have just let herself in. Unless she felt like she couldn’t now. He hurried to the door, hoping it was her. 

Only it wasn’t Sansa/Alayne. It was an angry looking fellow with gray eyes and curly black hair. He was shorter than Jaime, but the fury in his eyes made him seem bigger somehow. 

“Where’s Sansa?” the guy rasped in a Northern accent, and pushed his way past Jaime into the house. 

Jaime blinked and turned to follow the stranger down the hall. Had this guy who knew Sansa just let himself in the house? “Uh, excuse me, but who the hell are you? I didn’t ask you to come in. Get the hell out of my house.”

The stranger had his back to him; he was staring at the view of the water from the kitchen. He turned, jaw clenched and gray eyes hard. “I want to know what you did to Sansa to make her so upset.”

“And just who the hell are you? How do you know who I am? Who Sansa is?”

“I’m her brother.” He narrowed his eyes. “I know all about you.”

Oh, this was too much. “Her _brother_? The one who set - ? Which _one_? Where did you even _come from_?”

“Jaime?”

Jaime sighed and looked over his shoulder. Cersei had her suitcase and carry on. Good. She was going. 

He made the mistake of saying that aloud and she glared at him. She nodded to _Sansa’s brother_ and said, “Who’s this?”

“None of your business,” Sansa’s brother said, glaring at her. 

Cersei shook her head. “I’m outta here,” she muttered and started for the hall. Then she stopped and turned. “Good luck, by the way. You’re going to need it with that head case you’ve attached yourself to.”

“Don’t call Sansa a head case,” the brother snarled. 

“Seriously, who _are_ you?” Cersei asked him. 

That was the last thing Jaime needed, for her to know one of Sansa’s brothers was in the house. She’d never leave. “She’s not a head case,” Jaime said. He darted a glance at the brother who looked like he wanted to throttle Cersei. Well, he’d have to take a number. “She’s just - you know what? I don’t have to justify anything to you.”

“You always were the stupidest Lannister,” she said disgustedly. 

“And you were always the bitchiest. Get out.” At this point she could walk to the airport for all he cared though she had probably called a taxi or an Uber. 

Cersei flipped him off and stormed off and all Jaime felt was a sense of relief. He let out a deep sigh and focused on the brother. “And which brother are you exactly?”

“That your sister?” he asked instead of answering. 

“Who _are_ you? How do you know who she is?” Jaime demanded. “Last chance to answer before I call the authorities and they drag you out of here.”

The other man narrowed his eyes at him. There was loathing there. “Jon.”

Jon saw the recognition in Jaime’s eyes. And then his jaw dropped. “You’re Jon? Her twin? The one who went to prison?”

Okay, so Sansa had told Jaime about him? Was that what she was upset about? How much, he wondered, did she tell him? Jon nodded. “Yes.”

“Where the - how long have you been here? In Lys?” Jaime demanded.

“Who wants to know?” Jon scoffed. 

“The man currently living with your sister would like to know!” Jaime shouted. 

“I’ve been here for a few weeks. Now tell me where she is,” Jon said through clenched teeth. 

“You’ve been here...that long…? Jesus Christ! She never told me you were here!”

Jon stared at him. “What exactly did she tell you?”

“Fucking nothing! I just found out today that her real name is Sansa and not Alayne and that you...you…”

“Burned our childhood home down and my mother and her husband along with it?”

Jaime made a face. “Yes.”

Jon pointed at him. “Don’t you dare fucking judge her for that.”

“I don’t,” Jaime protested. 

Jon heard what he wasn’t saying - that Jaime judged him for it instead. Well, he could piss up a tree for all Jon cared. 

“My sister is upset and I’d like to know where she went, so if you have any information--”

“I don’t,” Jaime sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Mistakes were made and she left.”

“What kind of mistakes?”

“The kind where she left and I let her instead of making her stay and kicking my sister out.”

“So you’re an asshole.” Jaime shot him a look that said Jon was walking on thin ice. Jon didn’t care. “I need you to tell me if you have any idea where she might have gone.” He was going to lose it, and soon. He was barely hanging on as it was. 

“Have you tried calling her?” Jaime asked. 

“All the way here. She didn’t answer. Where would she have gone? Do you have any idea?” She’d been so upset; it had been heart wrenching and Jon couldn’t take it. He just wanted to hold her in his arms and take her pain away. “I can’t feel her - I can’t - I can’t _reach_ her! I need to see her, understand? I need to know she is all right.”

“Feel her?”

Jon threw up his arms in aggravation. “ _Where do you think she could be?!_ ”

“How do you know she’s upset if you haven’t even talked to her?” 

“I’m gonna knock your fucking lights out,” Jon seethed. 

“Won’t help you get any answers if you do that.” Jaime studied him closely. “How about you answer at least one of my questions and I’ll answer yours?”

Jon grabbed him by the shirt and got in Jaime’s face. 

“You’re not helping your case,” Jaime drawled, prying one finger at a time off of him. 

Jon let him go. “It’s a twin thing,” he said in exasperation. “I can feel when Sansa’s upset.”

Jaime knew about twin things. He and Cersei had had a bond when they were younger, and even now he sometimes got feelings that weren’t his and knew were hers. “She could be with a friend,” Jaime said.

“Do you have a number? Give it to me.”

Jaime shook his head, looking incredulous. “I’m not just going to give you Margaery’s phone number, Jon.”

“Then fucking call her and stop dicking around!”

“That’s it, get the fuck out of my house. I don’t care who the hell you are.”

Jon stood firm. “I’m not going anywhere until I find out where Sansa is.”

“Then shut the fuck up and let me make the calls.”

Jon slammed the side of his fist down hard on the kitchen counter. “Then make the goddamn call _now_ ,” he said through clenched teeth. 

He and Jaime glared at each other for a second and then Jaime picked up his phone off the counter and dialed a number.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you @israfel00 and @mynameisnoneya1991

“Hi, Margaery, it’s Jaime,” Jaime said as he sat down at the kitchen table and watched Jon pace the kitchen like a caged tiger.

“Jaime! Hi! How are you?” Margaery asked. 

“Well, I’ve been better…”

Jon stopped and glared at him, motioning with his hand for Jaime to get on with it. Jaime angled himself away so he didn’t have to look at him. So far, he was not impressed with the brother. And he had questions, so many questions, that he wanted answers to. 

Aside from the basics like how the fuck _long_ had he been in Lys and was Sansa ever going to tell him about this “twin thing”. Something about this whole situation told Jaime that this was more than a “twin thing”. Like Jon was privy to information Jaime wasn’t. 

_Well, of course he is,_ Jaime thought. _As it turns out I know fucking nothing about the woman I’ve been living with for the past three years._

“What’s going on?” Margaery asked, sounding concerned. 

“Alayne there with you?” 

“No,” she replied slowly. “Should she be?”

“No, no. I just didn’t know if she maybe had gone over there.”

“Did you two have a fight?” Jaime could practically see the frown on her face. 

“Yeah, we had a little spat,” he said, downplaying it. He didn’t want Margaery to worry. “She left, but she didn’t tell me where she was going.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry, Jaime. She’s not here and I haven’t heard from her. Should I be worried?”

He sighed. “No, no. I’m sure she’s just blowing off steam. But if you do hear from her or see her could you let me know? And have her call me?”

“Of course. I’ll try calling her, too. I’ll let her know you’re worried.”

“Thanks, Margaery.”

“No problem. Keep me posted.”

Jaime nodded. “Will do.”

He ended the call and looked over at Jon who was watching him. “Margaery hasn’t seen or heard from her.”

“I gathered,” Jon said dryly. “Is there anyone else you can call?”

“Work. She might have gone back. She has an office with a couch. She could sleep there.”

“Would she?”

“I don’t know,” Jaime said irritably. “But she could.”

“Do you have a plug I could use with my phone? It’s dying and I could at least call some hotels.”

“They won’t give out any information even if she is a guest.”

“I’m her brother.”

“Doesn’t matter. They still won’t.”

Jon threw up his hands. “This is fucking bullshit!”

Jaime eyed him warily, refusing to give into the anxiety Sansa’s brother was causing him. On top of the anxiety he’d felt before Jon had even showed up. “Leave me your number,” Jaime said. “I’ll call you when I get in touch with her.”

“Fuck that,” Jon said. “I’m going out there and hunting her down. I know what her car looks like.”

Jaime stood. “So do I.”

“And?”

“And it looks like I’m going with you.”

“I don’t _want_ you with me, Lannister.”

“What exactly is your problem with me? Or your problem in general? I mean, I know prison changes a person--”

“Fuck you,” Jon snapped and headed to the front door. 

Hell no. No way was Jaime going to let this little fuck nugget find Sansa first; he didn’t care if he was her brother or not. He didn’t like Jon. At all. 

Jaime slipped on his shoes quickly and practically ran out the door. Jon looked over his shoulder when he undoubtedly heard the door close and he stopped and turned, hands on his hips. “What are you doing?”

Jaime dug his keys out of his pocket and held them up. “I know my way around better than you.”

“I told you I didn’t want you with me,” Jon said. 

Jaime headed to his car, feeling kind of...smug. “You made that loud and clear. But that doesn’t mean I can’t do a search of my own. I know Sansa’s favorite places to go. I also know the hotels around here - and all without having to plug the information into a GPS. I’ll find her faster. Do you want me to give you a call when I do?”

“You know what?” Jon growled as he stormed Jaime’s way. Jaime refused to move. When Jon swung, he ducked and swung back, clipping Jon on the jaw. 

Jon muttered an oath and lunged, tackling Jaime to the ground. Fuck, that hurt! Jon managed to punch him, but Jaime managed to knock him off and get to his feet. He put his fists up, ready. 

“This isn’t helping matters, you do know that, right?” Jaime said. 

Jon got to his feet and held a hand to his mouth. There was blood when he took his hand away. Jaime had split his lip. 

“You want to tell me why you hate me so much?” Jaime asked. “What did Sansa tell you about me exactly to garner this kind of reaction?”

Jon stared at him, then past him at the house, and then to the right where the water was beyond the house. He looked back at Jaime. “She loves you.” And then he turned and headed to his car. 

Jaime stood there wondering exactly what the fuck _that_ meant. What would be the reason for Jon to hate him because Sansa loved him? That made no sense. That was the sort of thing an ex would say, not a brother. 

It was the sort of thing he thought about Robert. 

Jon peeled out like an _asshole_ and Jaime just stood there. His mind reeling. Jon being worried. Jon freaking out. Jon being so fucking angry with him, _hating_ him, him feeling like he had to compete with Jon on some level--

No. 

No. 

What were the odds?

No. 

Shaking his head, Jaime got in his car and peeled out, too.

xxxxxxxx 

It didn’t take long for Jaime to find Sansa. He’d be lying if he didn’t feel smug about it, too. Sansa may have kept Jon a secret from him regarding her past and her present, but he still knew some things about her. Even if it felt like what he knew was shrinking by the hour. 

But he still knew that the beach and the water was her favorite place to escape to, and that it was where she went when she needed to feel the ground under her feet again. 

So, he headed to their favorite beach and found her car, right there in the parking late along with several others. 

He wasn’t angry anymore. Hurt, yes, but not angry. He wanted answers, and he wanted to know if Jon was someone he needed to protect her from. 

She was sitting alone on a blanket he knew she kept in her car. There were people around - some together, some alone, all sitting in beach chairs chatting. There was a group of kids running down near the shore. 

Jaime ambled over to Sansa and sat down beside her. She looked startled at first, and then when she realized it was him, she looked confused. 

“Hey,” he said, looking out at the water after noticing the red rimming her eyes. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked. 

“I made a mistake. You shouldn’t have left. Cersei should have left.”

She didn’t respond, just looked out at the water in silence. 

“We have a lot to discuss,” Jaime said. 

Sansa sighed. “Do we?”

He looked at her now. “You don’t think we do?

“I suppose the better question is what does it matter?” he asked. 

Okay, that he hadn’t expected at all. “You…you just want this to be it? The end of us?”

She looked at him, tears in her eyes. “I think I’m just poison. I think you’d be much better off without me.”

They stared at each other in silence, and Sansa wiped tears away with a small huff and looked back out at the water. “I was going to tell you,” she said. “About me. Who I am really. I was going to tell you all of it. Cersei just beat me to it.”

“She has a way of decimating everything in her path.”

“She doesn’t like me. That much has been clear. I’m not sure what I did to her.”

“You are important to me. That’s enough.”

She snorted. 

“What?” Jaime prompted. 

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“No, tell me.”

“No, it’s nothing.”

He sighed. “Would it perhaps have anything to do with the fact that Jon hates me for the same reason? Because I am – or was – important to you?”

She stiffened, seeming almost frozen. Slowly, she turned to look at him. She looked spooked. “What?”

Jaime nodded. “He showed up after you left.”

“He _what?_ ”

“Yeah, so apparently Jon has been in Lys for a while? Care to tell me how long?”

Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out. 

“I think I had the same look on my face when he introduced himself,” Jaime continued. “He was really angry with me. And he was also very adamant that we find you – and that I help him. See, he was convinced that I had been the one to upset you.”

“Jaime—”

“But when I asked him if he’d even talked to you to learn that you were in fact upset, he said no. That he just… felt it. He said it was a twin thing. Which I get, to an extent. But after he took a swing at me—”

“Oh my God, he did _what_?”

“Yeah, so when he took a swing at me and I managed to punch him and split his lip, I asked him what he had against me. He said it was because you loved me.”

Silence. 

“I find that to be an odd answer, don’t you?” he asked. 

She licked her lips. 

“So, now I’m just trying to figure this all out, Sansa. Why he’s here, how _long_ he’s been here, why you never _shared_ that he was here, and just what the fuck else you’re not telling me.”

She sighed and swiped a hand down her face. “You don’t really want to know. Make a clean break, Jaime. Just run as far from me as you can.”

“No, see, I’m not going to do that. I want answers. And I think I deserve them. Maybe I’ll run after I get them. Or maybe I won’t because I love you so damn much and lying to me and hiding Jon from me – there has to be a _reason_ for that, right? A really damn good reason. And I’m not sure if it’s because he’s just dying to set fire to my life – literally, or maybe metaphorically – but I want to know why, _Sansa_. Why did I just find out that Jon is here in Lys?”

“I don’t know if I can say it out loud to you,” she said softly, almost mournfully. 

“Try. Pretend you’re not afraid to tell me anything. Which is how I’ve wanted you to feel all this time.”

“You’re a good man, Jaime.”

“Don’t feed me that bullshit, Sansa,” he huffed. “Just be _honest_ with me. Why all this secrecy about Jon? Everything seems to circle back to him – you moving to Lys, changing your name, lying to me – and I just don’t _feel_ like it all has to do with him having been in prison. There’s something else and I can feel it and based on his anger, I’m right. Aren’t I?”

She nodded slowly. 

Jaime reached out and cupped the side of her face, forcing her to look at him. It was getting darker now. Soon, the darkness would envelope them. “ _Please,_ ” he begged. 

She licked her lips and bowed her head. “When Jon and I were kids – we had a bond. A really strong bond. More than a … ‘twin thing’.”

“Like mind-reading or something?”

“Let me get it out without asking questions.”

“Okay,” he said softly and moved his hand off her face. 

“He and I could feel each other. And we could relay what we were feeling even when apart. I know that sounds a little like a twin thing, but it was more than that. I know it was because I’ve asked around. Done my research. If we were parted for too long, it was…it was hard on us. We only ever wanted to be together. He was everything to me – is…still, despite the fact that I want to punch him right now.”

Jaime felt the thing, the thing she wasn’t saying – yet anyway – right there between them. Just hanging there in between them. He knew what it was. How she talked about Jon, what she wasn’t saying was so much louder than what she was. And because he had experience in the area, he just _knew_. “Sansa,” he whispered. “Were you and Jon….?”

“Yes,” she said softly, he almost didn’t hear her over the crashing waves. “Jon and I were lovers. And once he was free and able to come find me, he did.”

“And you…you became lovers again.”

She looked up at him searchingly and then nodded. “Yes.”


End file.
